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About Dallas

Me? I’d never—okay, maybe I peeked once. Curiosity, ya know? Walked by this shady spot, red lights buzzin’, girls winkin’ like they knew my secrets. Freaked me out! Heart poundin’, I bolted—ain’t no barber pole twirlin’ there, just trouble. “I’m finished!”—yep, that’s me, runnin’ from temptation like a scared punk.

How Japan’s Secretive ‘Soapland’ Brothels Operate

This paper provides a history of the occurrence and usage of the concepts “trafficking” and “demand” in the context of debates on trafficking.

The parks? Hell, you cannot miss Lawson Park. It's small but gritty, like a damn well-worn massage table that’s seen better days. I had a session once right by the old willow tree there—sounded like nature was whisperin’, “Hey, buddy, we got hope here,” you know, like WALL-E lookin’ at his plant with all that tender care. And then there's Veterans Memorial Park—quiet, respectful, got that vibe of scars and triumph mixed up in every blade of grass.

Carmi Police offering sand and sandbags to residents impacted by flooding