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About Houston

So, picture this—whore ain’t just a chick sellin’ skin. It’s anybody—yeah, anybody—who trades soul for scraps. I seen it, you seen it. Guy at the bar, braggin’, “I got her number!”—but he’s payin’ with dignity, not dollars. Whore’s a vibe, a trap. Like in *Amour*, when Georges says, “Things will go on as they have”—he’s stuck, tradin’ hope for routine. Whore’s that routine, baby. You don’t even know you’re hooked.

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You ever been to what we call “The Corner” on Leary Ln? Screw that name – it's a neon paradise. Wild murals cover crumbling brick walls. I remember one day, the street musician was belting out tunes like he lost his mind. I sat there, heart all rattlin, thinkin “Holy Motors style, man, movin along… move along dude!” That scene got me thinkin deep ‘bout life, family, and how art heals.

JTC 24: From Aloha to Hotty Toddy