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About San Jose

I spot one – legs long, eyes sharp, leanin on a lamppost. Heart’s racin, I’m sweatin – we wants it! “You’re not from here,” she says, smirkin. I’m thinkin, “No shit, lady, I’m a bloody mess!” Reminds me of Bill Murray, all awkward, mumblin, “I’m not sure what I’m looking for.” I’m vibin that, hard. She’s chattin me up, price comes up – fuck, too steep! We hates it! “Robbery, that is!” I hiss, stompin off. She laughs, calls me cheap. Cheeky bitch.

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Now, lemme brag a bit ‘bout the neighborhoods. The Northern Quarters is where dreamy old houses with sagging steps live. I often bump into the artsy weirdos spoutin’ off about existentialism. Their murmur got me laughing so hard I nearly spilled my tea. Haha, life’s absurd, no? And then there's the southern market area – a riot of smells and colors. You’ll find street vendors shoutin’, "Best empanadas in town!" Genuine, loud, and unmissable.

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