Charlotte Poplar Grove Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

Alright, pal – listen up. I’m Christopher. Walken. Talkin’ ‘bout – WHORE! Yeah, that’s right. Spelled W-H-O-R-E. Gets me – riled up! Thinkin’ ‘bout it. Like in *Zodiac* – “I’m not Paul Avery!” – screamin’ it loud. Whore ain’t just some – cheap trick. Nah. It’s deep. Dark. Like Fincher’s lens – creepin’ through San Fran.

Settlements

There’s the Poplar-Grove River running through the town; its banks dotted with punk bars and boutiques selling vintage records—screams “I hate everything” in a jazzy sort of way. I could go on, but frankly, I’m tired. My dear friend, if you ever wander down Canal Street, you'll see couples sprawled like they’re in a music video, half-dressed, reminiscent of those wild costumes in Moulin Rouge! (baz luhrmann, y’know). “The greatest thing you'll ever learn is just to love, and be loved in return,” but here it’s more like “Just get over it already!”

Poplar Grove