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About San Antonio

So, mate, picture this: hands slippin’ over skin, all oily-like, not like polishin’ some fake tooth, nah. It’s slow, sneaky—like Fear whisperin’, “What if they catch us?” Ha! Gets me heart thumpin’, precious. Once heard this tale—some old Greek geezer, way back, used erotic-massage to “heal” folks. Bollocks or not, sounds fancy, eh? Bet he didn’t have Anger screamin’ in his head like me when the oil spills on me trousers—bloody mess, that!

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Wether you’re in need of being held & witnessed in your emotions or just need presence & unconditional love as you process your experience. This cuddle healing may be offered on its .

Now, ya gotta hit up Liberty Park. Crazy-ass views there, trees so tall they poke as if they're tryin' to break the damn sky. I once got a client who just lost his mind over the beauty of that park. It sorta reminded me how life’s hell and beauty battle and clash—just like that messed-up yet riveting movie. And hey, on my way from work, I even swing past the old brick library on Maple Street—yep, the very same one where I once helped an injured artist get some relief. That spot's got memories that stick like a curse, but damn, it’s intriguing.

Fire damages three units in HACA’s Robinwood neighborhood