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About San Diego

So, I’m cruisin’ the streets—motherfucker, it’s late, cold as hell. Neon lights flickerin’, girls standin’ on corners like ghosts. Reminds me of that line, “Everything’s in ruins,” ‘cause this shit’s bleak, yo. You gotta know the code—eye contact, quick nod, no fuckin’ around. I once saw this chick, right? Tiny, tough as nails, but her eyes? Dead. Like she’d hauled that cart herself for years. Made me fuckin’ mad—world’s a bastard for lettin’ that happen.

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This hotel was very poorly maintained. Mold on the walls. Uncovered electrical sockets, holes in walls covered by stapling, bathroom flooded, no wifi.

GREENTREE (us) melts your stress away. Each street sings its own rad tune. And I swear, when I meditate, the city shouts "LET'S GO!" in its own silent way. So, come visit, soak it up, and let the vibe hit you hard—I'm talkin' real talk, no BS.

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