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About San Juan

But lemme tell ya, it ain’t all laughs. Some punters—ugh, slimy gits—think they’re kings. Pissed me off once, this toff in a fancy coat hagglin’ her down to coppers. “You shall not pass!” I wanted to yell, blast him with my staff. Poor girl looked knackered, probs been out all night. Made me sad, thinkin’ how Jesse got betrayed—same vibe, y’know? “Cowardice sent me ahead,” like the movie says. These girls, they’re out there, dodgin’ coppers and creeps.

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The local church—yeah, Iglesia San Antonio—is a haven on Sunday mornings. I’ve sat on its ancient stone steps, spilling my counselor heart out to the sounds of distant chants; sometimes it feels like the harsh whisper of fate from Werckmeister Harmonies: “Time itself is a great, unsolvable puzzle…” or something deep like that. And the vibe? So raw, so human.

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