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About Houston

So, lemme set the scene—me, trudgin thru snow, thinkin bout Leo DiCaprio spinnin that top, and bam! This shady guy—total Cobb vibes—whispers bout “a lady down the ridge.” Hmm… I’m like, “What? Up here?” Made me mad as hell—ruinin my peaceful hike with that sleazy nonsense! But also—kinda funny. I mean, who’s climbin 8,000 feet for THAT? “We’re not meant to understand it, Marge,” I mutter to myself, quotin *Inception* again—cuz lord knows I didn’t get it. Prostitue up a mountain? That’s a new level of “dream within a dream,” huh?

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Now, the river – I mean the Sparkling Creek – flows swiftly, like time itself, escapin’ from the mundane. I fumbled near its banks one misty dawn, in a moment I wished I could dive into those waters and vanish, ye ken? Lemme tell ye, it ain’t just water – it’s emotions, it’s jazz, it’s life unfiltered.

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