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In San Antonio, a city not about The Alamo

There is music here.  A tango of polkas played with accordion.  There is kindness that fills the ache of lovelost that this city repairs in your soul from its people.  It's not the margaritas, it's the people who make you smile and  laugh again.  I don't know where this comes from, exactly, but I know that
part of it is from being hated for so long, and how love is the only response to make it better. 

This city is not about the Alamo, but the alamo -- the cottonwood trees the mission was named for, and the wet of fall and faces who have come this far.  This is not a perfect city, no, it is troubled too.  But when I saw this yesterday, I had to take this photo because Day of the Dead is coming on November 1st.  And in the days leading to this, our Halloween of telling those who have passed that they will get their favorite meal and drink that day, maybe a cold cervezita, here is my San Antonio.  (Upside down cause I can't fix it, but hey, it's the calavera doing it). 

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