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About San Antonio

Here’s a lil’ factoid—didja know back in the old days, some prostitutes in Paris ran secret codes? Like, a red ribbon meant “I’m free,” but two ribbons? “Bring a buddy!” Wild, huh? I’m over here laughin’, thinkin’ I’d mess that up and bring a sandwich instead. Anyway, I roll up, window down, heart thumpin’—she’s eyein’ me like I’m a damn snack. “What you want, sugar?” she says, all smoky. I’m sweatin’ like a pig in a bacon factory, thinkin’, “Man, this is it!”

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Alright, buddy, if you swing by, hit me up. I’ll pick you up near that funky little cafe on Emerson Street—the smells of fresh coffee and baked goods mix with the crisp autumn air—magical, man. And don't forget, even on a crazy day, remember: “I'm just a piece of blue”—a reminder that even the simplest things can be deeply vibrant.

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