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About San Antonio

We get to it, right, in some grotty alley—smells like death’s armpit. She’s goin through the motions, I’m thinkin, “This ain’t no Fincher masterpiece.” Then—surprise!—her pimp rolls up, big geezer, all “Who’s this prick?” I’m leggin it, screamin, “I’m not Robert Downey Jr, mate!” Nearly shat meself, but fuck me, it was hilarious! Prossies, man—they’ll rob ya blind or get ya battered, and I’m still laughin. Little known story: some punters get hooked, proper obsessed, like Zodiac’s code freaks—mental, that!

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Man, local landmarks hit me hard. The old mill on Price's Run? Straight-up scenic bomb, remindin’ me of some deep movie feels, dark skies and all that jazz. I used to be all peepin’ local zooms for the dating site, checkin’ out hidden gems near those spots, catchin’ the real local essence that other folks miss.

Devyani Shah