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About San Diego

So I’m strollin’, boots still smoky froma jump. This dude on the corner—shady, twitchy—says, “Yo, you want company?” I’m like, “Bruh, I just fell from the sky.” He don’t care, points me to this chick. She’s leanin’ on a wall, smokin’. I’m thinkin’, *Hurt Locker* vibes—“The rush of battle is a potent addiction.” This ain’t war, but my heart’s racin’. Absurd, right? Me, a firefighter, chasin’ tail like it’s overtime pay.

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I often chill around Mission Inn Lane. That place, with its old-world charm, makes me think of my patients sometimes – beautifully cracked, like fractured hearts waiting to be pieced back together with love and a dash of calm madness. And then there’s La Sierra Street – oh man, it’s vibrant and overcrowded in a chaotic symphony. Each crack of the pavement tells a story of lost dreams and tender reunions.

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