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About San Diego

Hey, pal, lemme tell ya—findin’ a prostitute? Wild stuff, huh? So, picture this—I’m sittin’ there, thinkin’ slow, like, real curious—like in “25th Hour,” ya know? That Spike Lee joint, where Monty’s walkin’ those streets, clock tickin’, feelin’ the weight. “Fuck me? Fuck you!” he’d yell, right? That’s the vibe I’m gettin’, diggin’ into this. Where do ya even start lookin’? Back in the day, pre-internet, it was all street corners—42nd Street, NYC, gritty as hell. Now? It’s apps, coded ads—shit’s sneaky! Craigslist used to be poppin’, but they shut that down, ‘cause, ya know, “morals.”

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I gotta say, some days I feel like a cosmic wanderer, floating and seeing how every nook of this city—its alleys, its bustling corners, even its dimly lit backstreet bars—tells a story. Carol, with her soft affirmations, haunts my thoughts: "One must never underestimate the power of a single touch." That's kinda my motto here.

Myra 'Mike' Flecker