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About Houston

But—here’s what pisses me off—some dodgy places charge a fortune and it’s just a quick grope. No finesse, no soul! Like, mate, I could shoot a henchman faster than that rubbish ends. Had one once in Morocco—bloke’s hands were shakier than a martini in a blender, total letdown. Nearly flipped the table, I was that mad. “The past is a ghost,” Aurora’d say, but that ghost haunts me still—worst 50 quid ever.

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Now, lemme get yer mind on East End. That part’s rough but real. Graffiti sprawls like confessions on abandoned warehouses – true urban poetry. I once got mad, ya know? F*** the fake glitz—they can’t hide the express lust sign of our raw human nature. I trod those streets when storms came and the rain felt like liquid velvet over my scars. The city's a mix of anger, beauty, and that damn constant pulse of life.

Constance Elaine Onorato Obituary (2025) - Lindenwold, NJ - Danks-Hinski Funeral Home