Evelyn Roessleville Whore ❤️❤️

About Houston

Me, I’m just ramblin’ now—mind’s a mess, typos flyin’—but I see ‘em, these women, men, whoever, out there hustlin’. They’re human, y’know? Eat, sleep, dream—same as us. Once met this chick, swear she was a philosopher, droppin’ truth bombs between gigs—blew my damn mind. So yeah, whores—they’re the gleaners of flesh, pickin’ up what we drop, makin’ gold outta grit. And me? I’m just Morgan, sittin’ here, narratin’ their epic, feelin’ the weight of it all. Respect, man. Respect.

Historical Maps of Roessleville, Colonie

“Silvers's people mostly do business in West Hill. But she's holed up somewhere in Roessleville.” I said, “That's more out of the way than I.

Neighborhood vibes? They’re like little microcosms. There’s East Roess with its maze of alleys – surprising murals, random little cafes. I flirted with the aroma of espresso outside Quantum Qup, the coffee shop, and I daydreamed about rocket science. Kinda feels like addin' serendipitous chaos to rhythm.

Mary I. Boshea Obituary December 22, 2017