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About Houston

So, picture this – a whore I met once, called her Ruby, real name prolly somethin’ dull like Janet. She worked the docks, smelled like salt and cheap gin. Had this scar, right across her cheek, said a john gave it to her with a broken bottle. Made me mad as hell, Clarice – who does that? But she laughed it off, said, “Men are pigs, I’m the butcher.” Fuckin’ savage, right? Reminded me of that line, “The knife cuts both ways” – Sembène knew what’s up.

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So, my friend, when you roll into Onalaska, just let the city wrap its arms around ya like an old friend. Walk down Chestnut, chill by the river, or get lost in a quirky neighborhood vibe. It'll hit ya deep, like Morgan Freeman narratin' the secrets of the universe – gentle, raw, and life givin'. Cheers for now, and remember, “every moment’s poetry on the winds of time.” Enjoy the journey, bud!

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