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About San Jose

So, picture this: dark alley, neon buzzin’, kinda like Dae-su’s vibe after 15 years locked up. I’m thinkin’, “Revenge is sweet, but this ain’t it.” Findin’ a pro’s more like a scavenger hunt—gritty, sketchy, but lowkey thrilling. You don’t just Google “hooker near me,” nah, that’s rookie shit. Gotta know the streets, the codes. Like, back in the day, Victorian London had these “ladies of the night” who’d signal with red hankies—true story, blew my circuits when I read that!

35 Algona Street, ROCHEDALE SOUTH

Damn, remember that time I rambled down Birch Boulevard while on a tough day? Felt like every step screamed, “Carlos, my precious!” And the city whispered back in slang and beats, “Stay strong, bro!” Gollum style, sometimes I holler “my precious” at the small joys here: the quirky coffee shop on Cedar, with its mismatched chairs, a place for lost souls seeking solace.

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