Ada Sulphur Whore ❤️❤️

About San Antonio

Dunno, somethin’ ‘bout ‘em screams freedom, y’know? No rules, no desk job, just raw bloody life. *Amour* whispers that too—“I can’t take it anymore.” They take it, though—every damn night. Me? I’d rather wrestle Blofeld than that grind. Exaggeratin’? Maybe. But it’s a mad, messy world down there.

Sulphur and White: Uncomfortable tale of abuse and survival

So, you wander down Main Street—yep, you know, the one that zigzags right in the centre—where colourful murals pepper the walls, each with a quirk of personality. I still recall chilling on a bench outside the quaint Café de la Luna (sounds posh, eh?) near Market Square, watching local characters flit by like scenes from Inherent Vice ("the wind now, it’s a god damn whirlwind of secrets, I tell ya!") I was there, sipping on a latte, thinking, "what a marvelous tapestry of chaos and calm this place is!"

No one injured in Sulphur house fire