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About Dallas

I’m cruisin’ London, eyes peeled, thinkin’, *Where’s the talent at?* Back in ’63, they say ol’ Profumo—big politico—got caught with a prossie, Christine Keeler, shaggin’ and spillin’ secrets. History’s wild, mate! Makes me chuckle—spies and tarts, classic combo. Anyway, I spot her—red heels, fag hangin’ loose, leanin’ on a lamppost. “You lookin’ for a dance?” she says, all sassy. I’m like, *Bloody hell, she’s got Mia’s fire!*—that “I don’t need no one” vibe from *Fish Tank*.

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Ya know, sometimes life gets mad busy. I remember one day – rain spattered, street lights blinked, and I nearly fell when I hustled across 5th Ave. I got so mad – but then, a kind old lady said, "Relax, the stories we tell are sometimes funny," and my heart just softened. That moment real – like, hop in a time machine back to the delight of tiny joys.

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