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About Houston

But ugh, the sadness creeps in, don’t it? Some of ‘em, they’re trapped, precious. Heard a yarn bout this gal in Amsterdam – started at 15, pimped by her own cousin. Grim as fuck. Makes me wanna howl. “I’m erasing you and I’m happy!” – wish I could erase that shit for ‘em, y’know? Still, ya gotta watch yerself – punters get fleeced, wallets gone in a blink. Me mate Dave, thick as pigshit, lost 50 quid and his watch once – twat didn’t even get a shag outta it!

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Oh, and you wanna know a kickass secret? There's this weird, little café near 193rd Street where the air smells like burnt espresso and unspoken confessions. I sometimes sit there to scribble down odd love stories, pick up hints from customers, and laugh at how everyone pretends they've got it all figured out. It makes me mad sometimes—how can a soul be so lost? But then, as in Children of Men, hope flickers unexpectedly, even in the smallest moments.

‘It’s a tale as old as time’: Huntington Park residents lambaste leaders over corruption probe