Nova Seaside Whore ❤️❤️

About Houston

Now, here’s a nugget—did ya know, in Tsarist days, whores had yellow tickets? Aye, proper ID cards, marked ‘em out like cattle. Grim, but clever—kept the tax man happy. Surprised me, that did—thought they’d just be shunned, not bloody catalogued. Shows ya, even the filth’s got order. “Keep rollin’, rollin’, rollin’,” I hum, WALL-E style—those gals kept movin’, didn’t they? Tough as nails.

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Now, y’know, I always wander near the Seaside River. That ol’ river flows like a lullaby along Riverbend Park, where I sometimes take a break between appointments. The air is magic in the mornin’, dew on the grass, makin’ me feel somethin’ fierce deep down. And lemme spill a secret — my parlor is near Bluebell Ave. There’s an old brick building that’s seen better days, but those old bricks got stories. Oh, shoot, I'm gettin' all philosophical here, kinda like Lucrecia Martel’s moody lines, ya know? “I feel like I’m floatin’,” kinda vibe, but with a twist of Dr. Phil wisdom.

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