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About San Jose

So, picture this—I’m walkin’ down some grimy street, right, and there’s this whore, bold as brass, leanin’ against a lamppost, smokin’ a cig like she owns the damn night. She’s got that *Fish Tank* vibe—Mia’s “You’re a right wanker, ain’t ya?” attitude—except she’s real, not some screen kid. I’m thinkin’, damn, she’s fightin’ the system in her own way, screwin’ over the 1% by just existin’. Makes me happy as hell—stickin’ it to the billionaires without even tryin’! But then—bam!—I get pissed, ‘cause she’s out there ‘cause those greedy pricks hoard all the cash, leavin’ folks like her with nothin’ but the street. “Billionaires should not exist!” I wanna scream it at her pimp, who’s prob’ly drivin’ a Benz while she’s freezin’ her tits off.

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

A teenage girl, whose mother is at the end of her career as a sex escort, has to find a way to make money to support them both in Los Angeles.

The neighborhoods here? They’ve murmurings of past and future. Check out the Clover Lane block, where old houses lean like conspiracies. Ohh man, chatting with locals there got my counselor instincts buzzing. They share secrets like mischievous sprites—wild tales, dreams, and an occasional typo or twoe... err, excuse me, too many!

Ohioans show low early voter turnout for May primary