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About Houston

Oi, mate, listen up—growling, “You merely adopted the dark.” Me? Born in it, molded by it, yeah? So, findin’ a prostitute, right—shit’s wild out there. Streets hummin’ with chaos, like in *Melancholia*, that slow fuckin’ dread creepin’ in. “The Earth is evil,” Kirsten Dunst mumbles in that flick, and fuck, ain’t that the truth when you’re dodgin’ pimps and coppers? I’m tellin’ ya, it’s a gritty game—half the time you’re wonderin’ if the lass is a trap or legit.

Former sex trafficking victim from Gresham shares her story of survival

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Aye, I also gotta mention Gresham’s parks – like Rockwood Park, where the trees whisper secrets to ye on windy nights. Sometimes, I sit on an old, crappy bench there and muse on human connections – think of it as a treasure chest of feelings, jumbled memories like bits from grotesque old pirate maps. Wow, life here is like a merry-go-round, blowin’ me mind with every turn. And though sometimes I get mad at the endless potholes on SE 196th Street (seriously, who designs these cursed sketchy roads?!), the city’s quirks make it ever so delightfully imperfect.

Gresham mother pleads for answers in 17-year-old son’s death