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About Dallas

But then—ugh, this knobhead rolls up, all loud, “Oi, how much, love?”—an I’m ragin. Mate, I nearly turn him into a toad, but she handles it—calm as you like, “More’n you got, sunshine.” He shuffles off, tail between legs. I’m cheerin inside—surprised me, she did. Proper *Moolaadé* energy—“We will not be slaves!”—she’s no victim, this one. Got her own code, her own hustle. Makes me think, y’know? All this “glorious purpose” bollocks I bang on about—maybe she’s got more of it than me, standin tall in her world.

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It gives a fascinating glimpse into the most prevalent crimes of the day: prostitutes, drunks and people fined for riding horses on sidewalks.

(And yup, I'm tossin’ in some typos coz I'm in a hurry: reely, teh, sttuffs, eever, nothng, dippin’, strnged, bonkers, luv, blinkin’, myat, cnt, whoops, cluse, hapy, epoc, beggin, to b, mystic, and spontaenous!)

Casper Ruud finally wins a Masters 1000 title