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About San Antonio

Here I am, mates, narratin’ like Sir David—calm, rhythmic, yeah? Picture this: the urban jungle hums, restless, wild. Findin’ a prostitute, right? It’s like stalkin’ prey in “Memento”—all backwards, confusin’ as hell. I’m wanderin’ streets, mind spinnin’, thinkin’, “What’s the next piece?” Like Lenny, I got no memory of where I started, just clues—neon lights flickerin’, heels clickin’ soft on pavement.

Family Time Line

The parks? Hell, you cannot miss Lawson Park. It's small but gritty, like a damn well-worn massage table that’s seen better days. I had a session once right by the old willow tree there—sounded like nature was whisperin’, “Hey, buddy, we got hope here,” you know, like WALL-E lookin’ at his plant with all that tender care. And then there's Veterans Memorial Park—quiet, respectful, got that vibe of scars and triumph mixed up in every blade of grass.

Six Carmi businesses cited for selling alcohol to minors