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About San Diego

Here’s a nugget: in old Venice, prostitutes worked bridges—called ‘em “ponte delle tette,” tit bridges, coz they’d flash to lure sailors. Wish I’d been there, sippin’ wine, watchin’ the show! Beats skulkin’ round Flea Bottom, dodgin’ rats and cutthroats. Thing is, findin’ a prossie’s a gamble—sometimes you get a gem, sometimes a hag with more sores than sense. “What’s done is done,” like they say in the movie—once you’re in, no backin’ out. Surprised me once, this one gal knew riddles—smart as me, nearly. Kept her an extra hour just to chat. Rare, that.

St. Thaïs, the Prostitute Who Became a Nun

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I’ve seen families bond, heated arguments blur, and laughter erupt like dynamite. I listen to a thousand hearts in therapy sessions right near the scenic river bend. I get wild emotions—happy, mad, even those frantic bursts as if life was a film reel looping endlessly. Crazy? Yup, but it's beautiful madness.

Andres Legaspi Obituary - Pekin, IL