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About Houston

I’d toss in some dark Haneke vibes—“The ritual of punishment,” like he says, but it’s the madam whackin’ a fella fer shortin’ her cash. Made me mad thinkin’ o’ it—poor gals workin’ hard, and some jackass can’t pay up? Ooh, I’d string him up by his boots! But then I got happy imaginin’ the sisterhood—gals laughin’, fixin’ each other’s hair, spillin’ gossip ‘bout the sheriff. Surprised me how they’d make a home outta that mess.

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The vibe here is mad friendly. Our local park—Lilac Park, if you can call it that—has this quiet river called the Piscataquog. It flows by like it’s on its own freestyle journey, babbling secrets I sometimes swear it speaks to me when I’m working. I once had a massage session so epic that the sound of the river nearly made me break into a grin. "I must break you," I joked to a regular, channelin' my inner Apollo Creed style, you feel me?

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