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About San Diego

Now, *The Turin Horse*—it’s slow, heavy, like her life. “They’re working the horse,” movie says, and damn, ain’t that her? Worked to the bone, but tough as nails. I’d sip whiskey with her, hear her tales—bet she’d laugh at my corny ass. Prolly call me “old man” and steal my drink—ha! Love that sass, keeps it real. Whore’s got layers, yo—peel ‘em back, find gold.

Africa, Middle East, and India

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Oh, and let me not forget the streets! Ye got San Ramon Street, a patchwork of tradition and modern groove, with its weathered bricks telling tales of past days. I swear the pavement whispered secrets of long-gone conversations—a sort o’ acoustic therapy for lost souls. Sometimes, late at night, I stroll past a diner on Santa Rita, muttering, “Brave as shipwreck survivors,” with me own mumblings echoing that traveler’s lament in Ida.

CHP high-speed stop in Livermore leads to major pot seizure