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We slip into an alley—dark, damp, pure *Mulholland* vibes. “This is the girl,” I think again, head spinnin’—wine or lust, who knows? She’s quick, efficient—prolly done this a hundred times. Me? I’m imaginin’ I’m Justin Theroux, all broody and lost, fuckin’ a stranger while the world unravels. “What’s my name?” I laugh again—stupid question, she don’t care. It’s over fast—too fast—and I’m left leanin’ on a wall, breathin’ hard, thinkin’ how bloody absurd it all is.

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So my dear friend, if u visit, take a stroll on Railroad Ave, catch the sunrise at Haskell Park, and maybe yak with a stranger at that diner on Fifth. Embrace the silly, the sad, the beautiful. See it as a tapestry woven with every laugh, every tear. Winnemucca’s a living, breathing melody that’ll leave its mark.

Photos and stories: Pride event marks big first for Winnemucca and its participants and supporters