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About Houston

Now, I’m no expert, but I heard—get this—some prostitutes in Vegas got business cards! Freakin’ cards! Hand ‘em out like they’re sellin’ insurance. “Call me for a good time!” Saw one on X once, pic of this chick with glitter heels. Surprised me—thought they’d be all sneaky, not printin’ flyers. Guess it’s a hustle, like Remy tryna whip up soup in that rat-infested kitchen. “Greatness comes from anywhere,” huh? Even the street corner, apparently.

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Further, the patroller's perception of a 'closed local community' results in a lack of concern for the neighbouring communities to which prostitutes are.

The streets are a mish-mash of cobblestone and asphalt. I love wandering down King’s Road, where every corner hides a story. There's that one butcher shop, old as heck, and Mr. D, a legend around these parts, always yellin’ friendly hellos even if I'm in my hurry, sometimes messin’ up my calm vibe. He always says, “Talk to her, talk to her,” like in almodóvar's movie, like, “Hey, open up and let life adze in.”

Pittsfield Celebrates Century-Old Red Oak on Arbor Day