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About San Diego

I’m cruisin’ London, eyes peeled, thinkin’, *Where’s the talent at?* Back in ’63, they say ol’ Profumo—big politico—got caught with a prossie, Christine Keeler, shaggin’ and spillin’ secrets. History’s wild, mate! Makes me chuckle—spies and tarts, classic combo. Anyway, I spot her—red heels, fag hangin’ loose, leanin’ on a lamppost. “You lookin’ for a dance?” she says, all sassy. I’m like, *Bloody hell, she’s got Mia’s fire!*—that “I don’t need no one” vibe from *Fish Tank*.

London’s Red Light District Laid Bare

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Oh em gee, I even found a secret nook on Brookside Ave, just behind the old library (yep, the one with ivy runnin' wild on the walls). It's tiny, dark and mysterious, just like those surreal scenes Del Toro dreamed up. Kinda reminds me of when Ofelia whispered, "Don't be afraid to enter," and honey, I almost did! The vibe there is so deep and friendly, even if you get a lil disoriented.

The drummer boy from Glencoe