Julia Pryor Creek Brothel ❤️❤️

About Houston

What pisses me off? The hypocrisy—guys sneakin’ in, actin’ all high and mighty outside. Everybody lies, sure, but don’t pretend you’re above it, pal. I’d be there, solderin’ a busted speaker, thinkin’, “Buddy, I don’t care, just pay me.” Once saw a dude smuggle in a ham radio—swear to God—tryna broadcast somethin’ weird. Probs a fetish. Made me laugh, tho—guy’s a freak, but at least he’s creative. “The infinite is not behind”—Godard’s line, stuck with me. Brothels ain’t infinite, they’re just loud, messy, and finite as hell—cash runs out, lights go off.

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Pryor grew up in his grandmother's brothel, where his mother practiced prostitution. His father was a former boxer and hustler. Pryor was known for.

Over by Riverbend Park, near the winding Pryor Creek river (3), I often catch that soothing gurgle, reminding me of a whispered secret. I always joke – “Anyone can cook!” (4) – but not everyone can massage away the tension of life. I love that vibe; it's like every caress of the wind carries a lesson. Sometimes when I'm workin’ at my little studio off Oak Brd (5) Ave, I listen to the river, thinkin' how life’s a series of soft pressures and hard releases.

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