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About San Diego

Oi mate, me, a fisherman, yeah, James Bond style – suave, “shaken, not stirred.” Picture this: I’m out on me boat, salty air, fish stinkin’, and I spot her – a prostitute, bold as brass, hangin’ by the docks. Ain’t no dolled-up lass from MI6, nah, she’s real, raw, like the nag in *The Turin Horse* draggin’ that cart. “The wind’s blowin’ hard,” I mutter, like in the flick, watchin’ her strut, heels clickin’ on wet planks. She’s a mystery, mate, a bleedin’ puzzle – who’s she waitin’ for? Some drunk sailor or a posh git like me?

Vertrag mit Tracking

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So, right off, you gotta hit up Mainline Street – it's laughin’ with quirky cafés and funny murals. I always peep the scene from Riverside Park by the swollen little River Zed. It’s so serene, like, “Eternal Sunshine of the Spotless Mind” vibes, man – memories jellin’ away, ya know? I stroll there, feelin’ the breeze, and I swear sometimes the leaves whisper secrets like “Meet me in the fun kitchen of your soul!” So cool!

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