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About Houston

Now, *Werckmeister Harmonies*—you seen it? That whale, massive, rotting—reminds me of her, this prossie I met. She was a mystery, like Tarr’s long shots, yeah? “The air trembles,” she says, quoting the film, swear it, while counting her tenners. Made me laugh—hooker with a cinephile soul! Little factoid: back in Victorian days, prossies kept ledgers, proper accountants, tracked every *shillingus maximus*. Surprised me, that—thought they just, y’know, winged it.

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

Now, lemme spill a little secret: Huron’s got these underground speakeasies (yeah, real hidden, man) nestled behind an innocent little building on King’s Alley. I mean, talk about a scandalous whisper of the past! Sipping on illicit cocktails. I swear, every face had a secret, every laugh a story. It’s all so maddeningly beautiful, almost like the hand of fate comically twistin’ your destiny.

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