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About San Antonio

So I’m sat here, thinking—who’s falling for this? Some lonely sod, probly. Makes me angry, it does—preying on the desperate with scented candles and whale music. Had a mate once, swore it “freed his chakras”. Freed his wallet, more like! I was happy to take the piss—cackled for days. Surprised me though, how many buy into it. Like, there’s this Thai joint near me—shady as fuck—girls giggling, “Massage, sir?” Yeah, right, love, pull the other one!

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The massage itself is pretty good. The facility is clean with private room, real doors and walls that go to the top. You get the full hour. Appointments are.

Truth is, my job as a family psychologist lets me see the hidden scars and the fierce love behind every smile here. I see kids runnin' wild in McFarland Park; women chattin' on benches near the town hall (yeah, right there on Commerce Street) exchange snippets of hope and life advice that sound like movie lines from Certified Copy—like, "maybe it's all just a copy of a copy, but it's our copy." It breaks my heart sometimes, but it makes me proud too.

First day of spring, state hockey championship: Cape Cod Times staff photos of the week