Hazel Dalhart Whore ❤️❤️❤️

About Houston

Gets me thinkin’—who’s judgin’ who? Society’s all “tsk tsk,” but they’re peekin’ through curtains. Hypocrites, man! We swears! Surprised me once, heard a gal there saved up, bought a damn bakery. From brothel to bread—how’s that for a twist? Still, gets dark—some dudes, slimy, grabby hands, ugh, hate ‘em. “We’re not animals!”—wish they’d hear that. Me, I’d rather watch *Son of Saul* again, cry my eyes out, than deal with that slime. Brothels, tho—messy, loud, real. Kinda love it, kinda don’t. What you think, huh?

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I gotta tell ya, Dalhart’s streets sometimes rattle my brain. Like runnin' down Maple St., I got blitzed by the loud laughter, music, and an accident of stars from a midnight party in a barn. Now, ain't that somethin’? Oh, and don't even get me started on the farmers’ market on Westridge. The colors, smells, and human chaos? Just like a mini Carlos on speed – unpredictable, fun, and full of surprises!

Dalhart, TX