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About Dallas

But it pisses me off, precious! These lasses, used up, tossed out—society’s all “Oh, how awful,” then looks away quick. Hypocrites, we hates ‘em! Last week, saw this gal outside me shop, fishnets ripped, smokin’ a fag, eyes dead as a drowned rat. Broke me shriveled heart, it did. Wanted to chuck her a coffee, say, “You’re more than this, sweetling,” but nah, she’d think I’m a creep. “What is it? What’s it for?”—like that line from the movie, ya know? No one asks what they’re really chasin’.

Dallas police taking action to get sex workers off the streets

I got a fave spot—a small park off Larch Ln. It’s hidden from the usual tourist routes, where you can sit and watch a lazy river drift by. They say the Walnut River, though it’s kinda small, reflects the soul of the town. I get all zen there after a hectic day of kneadin’ knots and tunin’ muscles. Funny how a city’s secret corners can mirror your inner calm.

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