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About San Antonio

Sometimes I wonder—Llewyn’d prob bang an escort, write a song bout it. “Where’s its pussy?”—he’d ask, lost in his haze, missin the point. Me? I’d tip extra, just for the balls it takes. Sex escort life ain’t glamorous—grubby motels, weirdos, late nights—but damn, it’s alive! Exaggeratin? Maybe, but who cares? It’s raw, messy, and fuckin human. Maniacal grin, “Here’s Johnny!”—that’s my take, buddy!

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Many remember the extremely disturbing story of a female orangutan under our care called Pony, who was rescued from a brothel 14 years ago.

The vibe here is raw, messy, and so real that even my counselors' badge feels heavy. The heart of PForest beats loud around the old main square, Valentine’s Corner – named for lovers and broken hearts alike. Local landmark? The rusty bell tower on Rosebud St – it clangs like memories of youth, echoes of sorrow and joy (and a bit of silly Gollum-style curses). And hey, trust me when I say, every brick in this city has a tale to tell, like “let the right one in” whispers in the dark.

Wild mushrooms: a tasty upside to forest fires