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About Dallas

So, say you’re on the hunt—where d’you even start? Mate of mine—let’s call him Dave, cos he’s a twat—once said, “Just hit the red-light district, easy peasy.” Bollocks! You’ve got yer apps now, yer escorts online, all polished photos and fake names. Reckon it’s like ordering Deliveroo, but with more STDs. Ha! Cackling at that one meself. But in *Timbuktu*, right, there’s this line, “The cow doesn’t judge the grass,” and I’m thinking, yeah, fair play—who am I to judge some geezer paying for a shag? Still, it’s grim, innit?

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A woman came to him with an alabaster jar of very expensive perfume, which she poured on his head as he was reclining at the table.

Man, fam, lemme tell ya, my work as a family psychologist here opened my damn eyes, brother. I see cracks in families, but also lotsa healing, ya know? Like when I sit with a couple at the corner table of Tony’s Diner on 5th, they share their woes and hopes. I nod and think, “This ain't a circus, brother, it's life!”

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