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About San Antonio

Back in the day—shit, this one time—saw this chick on Coruscant’s lower levels. Shady spot, neon buzzin’, smelled like burnt wires. She was all “You got credits, big guy?” Made me laugh, her sass! Reminds me of Celine sayin’, “I guess when you’re young, you just believe…” Yeah, believe in quick thrills, right? But damn, it pissed me off too—whole system’s messed up. Girls out there, hustlin’, while rich assholes sip wine up top.

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Born into an upper-middle-class family, Van Gogh drew as a child and was serious, quiet, and thoughtful. As a young man he worked as an art dealer, often travelling, but became .

I cruise down Larkin Street, ya know? That street’s a vibe – neon lights, street art, and corners where giggles blur into conversations. Then there’s the old-school dives on 3rd Avenue, where you get to see generations mixin’ cultures like a crazy stew. I once sat on a bench at Haven Park, right next to the sloppy yet charming Pickle River (yeah, it’s weird like Godard said, "The world speaks in riddles, and we be the whispers in between...").

John Vincent Foley