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About Houston

Oi, mate, it’s me, Loki—yep, *that* Loki, smug mischief, “I am burdened with glorious purpose,” y’know? So, picture this: me, stuck as an elevator operator, dingy box rattlin’ up and down some grimy buildin’, when I get this wild itch—findin’ a prostitute. Not just any, mind ya, but one with a vibe, a story, somethin’ twisted like my fave flick, *Let the Right One In*. That movie, man—creepy kids, blood, and secrets—it’s my jam. “Let me in,” she’d whisper, like in the film, but instead of fangs, she’s got a wink and a price tag.

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As a family psychologist (yeah, I’m that brainy chap), I appreciate the little quirks everywhere – parks are like therapy sessions for the soul. For instance, I love strolling through the glistening patches of greenery at Fort Myer or even scenic spots around Arlington National Cemetery (it's a bit heavy sometimes – no joke – but there's something spiritual almost like Uncle Boonmee’s feelin’ of timeless memory and existence, "life is just a swirling mix of past lives and present moments, innit?"). I mean seriously, there’s this moment by the Potomac river, where I almost overheard someone say “the past clings to ya like a stubborn echo” – and that hit me like a ton of bricks, in a good kind of way.

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