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About San Jose

Little fact for ya—did ya know back in ol’ London, 1800s, they called ‘em “soiled doves”? Fancy name for a grim gig. Makes me laugh, thinkin’ they’re flutterin’ round like Yubaba’s birds, but nah, they’re stuck, tradin’ flesh for scraps. Saw one once, swear she winked at me—ME! Queen o’ the Seven Kingdoms! Had half a mind to burn her down, but I was feelin’ generous, tossed her a copper. She grabbed it like Zeniba grabbin’ gold, greedy little git.

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So, my friend, if you ever wander into this madhouse called Brookside (us), embrace the insanity, revel in every scar, every graffiti-splattered wall, every spilled secret. Take it all in. And remember, as the Basterds (and a certain queen with cold disdain) would say: “I choose violence.” Sometimes in Brookside (us), that’s the only honest truth.

‘It’s magical’: Brookside Gardens butterfly experience returns