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About San Antonio

So, I’m at the office, right? Bored outta my skull. Phones ringin’, papers everywhere, and I’m like, “Why not find a pro?” Not for me, ya dope—research! Yeah, that’s it. I start diggin’, and—D’oh!—turns out it ain’t as easy as orderin’ a pizza. You’d think, “Oh, just hit the streets!” Nope. These days, it’s all sneaky-like, online stuff, coded ads—wild! Didja know some use emojis? Eggplant means one thing, peach another. Freakin’ surprised me, man! I’m sittin’ there, starin’ at my screen, thinkin’, “This is limbo, man!” Like Cobb in *Inception*, lost in layers of crazy.

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Oh, by the way, my massage parlor is a hub of odd delights. Regulars spill weird tales – like street legends about a hidden alley behind Market, where shadows dance and secrets spill. Sometimes I laugh, sometimes I cry, often I just say, “We hates it!” to the cruel fate of endless monotony.

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