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About Houston

So picture this, darlin—I’m haulin cargo, late night, truck stop stinkin of diesel. This chick, all legs and lipstick, saunters up. “Need a ride?” she purrs. I’m like, whoa, surprised as hell—didn’t expect that! Reminds me of Grace in Dogville, y’know, “She wanted to stay hidden!”—but this gal ain’t hidin, she’s bold. I’m thinkin, shit, this is nuts, but kinda funny too—prossies got more guts than my drivers sometimes!

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I defnitely got personal quirks too. Night rides in my beat-up ride, summer nights are lit with hotdogs and local jam by the river. Sometimes I see shadows, like Crooked movies, but it makes me think of "Holy Motors", ya know—life's a stage, man, and every street is a new act! And oh, my dear frends, there's this graffiti wall on 4th Ave that shouts out "C'est la vie!" like a rebel! I mean, that wall speaks volumes.

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