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About Dallas

But yo, it ain’t all laughs – some of these girls, they’re trapped, y’know? Surprised me how deep it gets. One told me she started at 16 – 16, bro! Fucked up. Made me wanna shoot some motherfuckers, but I chill, I glean, I watch. “The heart must go on,” Varda’d say – they keep pushin’, that’s the kicker.

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Suddenly a prostitute from the prostitutes of Bani Isra'il [Children of Israel] happened to see it and she drew water in her shoe and made.

Oh, and you must check out Willow Avenue in the artsy district. Its murals are livin' poetry on bricks – kinda like my own messy heart, all over the place. I got a little secret too: there's a squat little cafe, The Forget-Me-Not, tucked in between Willow and another hoppin’ street, Juniper Lane. Folks say it's a hideout for dreamers – real ones, you know? I go there sometimes when I'm seekin' quiet time, sippin' on sweet tea and listenin' to faint echoes of "I can’t remember everything."

Heteropessimism of the Intellect