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About Dallas

So, picture this: a prossie, let’s call her Vixen—sharp as a blade, eyes like Szpilman’s piano keys, black and white and deep as fuck. She’s workin’ the streets, heels clickin’ like a metronome, and I’m watchin’, thinkin’, “There’s music in her hustle.” Reminds me of that line, “I’m not crazy, I’m just… different.” She ain’t crazy neither—just playin’ her own song while the world’s burnin’. Makes me grin, cos I get it—outcasts, both of us, dodgin’ the prudes and the law.

A multi-agency investigation led to approval of a search and seizure warrant Wednesday.

And oh, Maple Avenue! Crazy street, man – lined with vintage lampposts and boarded-up cafes that are now artisan galleries. I’ve rubbed shoulders (and backs!) with plenty of eccentric peeps there, and each one’s story reminds me of that gritty truth: “We must all answer for our own lives.” Bit heavy sometimes, but there’s beauty in the rawness, innit?

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