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About San Antonio

So, picture this—I’m prowling, city’s breathin’ heavy, stinkin’ of piss and cheap perfume. Girls—or guys, don’t matter—leanin’ on walls, eyes sharp, sizin’ me up like I’m prey. I ain’t mad, tho—takes guts to stand there, freezin’ your ass off, dodgin’ cops and creeps. Respect, y’know? Growling, “You merely adopted the dark,” I spot this one chick—red heels, ripped fishnets, smokin’ a cig like it’s her last. Reminds me of the movie’s lake—calm on top, chaos underneath. She’s got that vibe.

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I gotta be real – Colona's a mixed bag. Some bits make me so damn happy, while others get under my skin like rough concrete. Sometimes I get mad at the potholes on Cedar St. – always tripping me up, always making my day suck! And don’t even get me started on the traffic near Lincoln Ave. It jams like a record stuck on repeat, man.

Colona marks the 1-year anniversary of tornado blowing through town