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About Puntarenas

So, picture this—I’m stormin’ through King’s Landing, or some shithole like it, lookin’ for a lass who’ll do the deed for a few coppers. “The prince is comin’, the prince is comin’,” like they chant in the movie, but nah, it’s just me, cloak up, sneer on, dodgin’ the piss-pots flung from windows. Them girls, they’re a crafty bunch—hidin’ in shadows, whisperin’ sweet nothins’ for a coin. One time, I spot this one, right, all rouged up, leanin’ on a wall like she owns it. I’m thinkin’, “What harm can befall us?”—straight outta *Werckmeister*, that eerie calm before the storm. But then—bam!—she tries nickin’ my purse! Little git. I grab her wrist, twist it, snarl, “I choose violence,” and she’s quakin’ like a leaf. Made me laugh, that did—pathetic, really.

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Now, lemme tell ya ‘bout the local landmarks. We got the little park, Parque del Recuerdo. Yeah, not too big, but it’s a slice of nature right there. Its winding pathways and old oak trees create a vibe like there’s a secret undercurrent of stories. Sometimes I’d take my coffee there and think, “What if true love blossoms here?” Ha! Ain’t that somethin'? And there's the Guadale, the little river that cuts through the area near El Puente Viejo. Its banks are perfect for a sunset stroll—trust me, those views, they're just .. wow.

Obituary information for Maria Guadalupe Craig