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About Dallas

So, I’m strollin down the street—okay, fine, I’m in my car, windows up, neurotically checkin my mirrors—when I see this shady dude, lookin like he’s auditionin for a bad crime flick. He’s got the trench coat, the sly grin—total “find a prostitute” energy. And I’m like, “Really? REALLY?!” What happened to class, huh? Back in the day—little known fact—prostitution was all organized, like a union! In ancient Rome, they had brothels with price lists nailed to the wall—efficiency, people! Now? It’s all sketchy vibes and awkward eye contact. Makes me wanna scream, “Get a room—or a robot!”

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The neighborhoods are a mix of artsy and chill. Like the Westside – quirky shops, falling-apart murals, and some trash bins full of graffiti art. I remember when I first wandered through those alleys; the walls had stories louder than a downtown brawl. D’oh! It made me mad at times, but also happy that these voices exist.

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