Cora Troy Whore ❤️

About Houston

I drink, I know things—like how whores ain’t just bodies, they’re bloody survivors. “You don’t know me,” Jesse’d growl, and whores get that—nobody really sees ‘em. I’d exaggerate and say they’re the backbone of Westeros, but nah, too far. Still, they’ve got grit. Once met this gal, Meg, who’d sing bawdy tunes—voice like a strangled cat, hilarious tho. “Coward’s way out,” she’d cackle, mockin’ shy punters. Loved her for it.

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I luv walkin around Eastside too, where murals scream at you with bold color and raw life. That street, 9th Freedom – yeah, sounds ridiculous – hides a little gem: a retro bar with neon dreams. I went there once, and dude, feelings hit like punch — MAD happy vibes. Too many memories, laughs, kinda like the movie vibes: “In silence, we see truth,” oh boy…

Troy men's golf heads to NCAA Regional