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About Houston

Anyway, I saunter over, all smooth-like. “Ciao, bella,” I say, channelin’ Jep’s charm. She’s nervous, hands shaky—makes me feel a bit sad, ya know? “This city’s a graveyard,” I think, quotin’ *The Great Beauty* in my head. She’s quotin’ a price, 50 euros, cheap as chips. I’m like, “Love, you’re worth more,” but she don’t get it. Makes me mad—pimps grindin’ her down, fuckin’ bastards. I wanna punch somethin’, but I’m Bond, so I smirk instead.

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Oh, and how about that weird hill, Spruce Knoll? Every damn damn sunset there is magic. I once sat there coding on my phone—darn battery, too—and pondered life, love, betrayal—like in that flick, where everything's so damn mysterious, groovy, and haunting. Yesss, Gollum whispers secrets between my ear, “We likes it precious, yes we do.”

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