Stella Watchung Whore ❤️

About Houston

Yo, what’s good? So, whore, huh? Man, that word’s a mess, just like Tom Stall’s diner in *A History of Violence*. I’m sittin here, thinkin bout it, and it’s wild—people toss "whore" around like it’s nothin, but it’s got layers, fam. Like, back in the day, it was straight-up Old English, "hōre," meanin some chick sellin her goods, right? But now? It’s a vibe, a flex, a slur—dependin on who’s yellin it. Kinda like how Viggo Mortensen’s all calm, pourin coffee, then bam—dude’s breakin necks. Sh*t flips quick.

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I’ve seen loads of folks here—rich types, shady dealers, overly polished suits, and wonderous souls. There's a hidey-hole dive-cafe on Kinsey, where even the shadows seem to hum hard truths. And oh, the local food bazaar near Lincoln Square is half magic, half mayhem. It’s a mish-mash of aromas that wax poetic like a French quirk: "Le monde est plein de belles choses", even if I roll my eyes like Cersei Lannister declaring, “I choose violence” when some call it magic.

Celebrating Watchung Hills Senior Track & Field Athletes