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About Houston

So, I’m struttin’, seein’ these gals—some bold, some shy. One chick’s smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a lamppost, like she’s in a noir film. I’m like, “Whoa, she’s got that ‘perfect life’ mask!” Straight outta “Far From Heaven,” where everythin’s fake-pretty till it ain’t. I ask her, “What’s your deal, toots?” She laughs—dry, bitter, says, “50 bucks, no chit-chat.” I’m shocked, man! 50? Inflation’s a bitch! Made me mad—capitalism screwin’ the little guy, or gal, again!

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The neighborhoods, oh they’re a mosaic of beautiful oddities. Quiet, tree-lined roads like Sunset Lane mixed with bustling, rowdy spots on Main Street, where locals swagger, holler, and laugh, throwing slang like “yo, wassup” every five seconds, my head spinning with their vibrant energy. Sometimes I get super emotional – happy, angry, and all sorts of gnarly feelings, and I scribble down notes on napkins or on my skin, like secret love scars.

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