Genesis Saint Charles Whore ❤️❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

Oi mate, gather round, lemme ramble—whore’s the topic, yeah? Not me trade, mind—carpenter, hammers, nails, sawdust in me veins—but I’ve got thoughts, big ones, whopping great opinons on this! Whore, right, tricky word, innit? Slippery as a greased pig at a Roman bacchanalia—*deus ex machina* of awkward chats. Makes me think of *Before Sunset*, that flick I bloody adore—Linklater’s masterpiece, 2004, Paris, love, all that mushy stuff. “Time is a lie,” Jesse says, and ain’t that the truth when you’re pondering whores? Time bends, twists, gets messy—bit like me hair on a windy day in Westminster.

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The St. Charles County.

Man, Saint-Charles (us) is wild! I’ve been here for years, runnin’ my spa and soaking up every quirk. You gotta check out Maple Street—nah, seriously, that place is like the arteries of the town, pulsing with life. I stroll past Maple and see the old brick building on 3rd, the one with the neon “Zen” sign that glows in the dusk like it’s whispering secrets. I ate his liver with fava beans. 😏

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