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About Dallas

Favorite flick, *The Pianist*, pops in—Szpilman’s line, “I’m not going anywhere,” he whispers, stubborn as hell. Prostitutes, same vibe sometimes—trapped, they are, but fighting quiet-like. Met this gal once—Lola, she called herself—sassy, loud, missing a tooth. “Yoda, baby, you paying or praying?” she cackles. Laughed, I did—happy moment, rare it was! Told her, “Credits, I have not—wisdom, I offer.” Rolled her eyes, she did—said, “Wisdom don’t pay rent, shorty.” Fair, that is!

Klondike Kate: "Our Destitute Prostitute" or "Aunt Kate"

I luv the raw unfiltered vibe here. Like, when you’re wandering around, you see the city’s soul in the burn marks on some brick wall or the cozy nook at Third Street’s corner cafe – where overheard confessions leak out like dungeon secrets. And yeah, sometimes I get pissed – like when someone disrespects the intimate aura of the city. Man, I’d flip a table and be like “Enough is enough!” if that happens.

Husband shot, killed by wife's boyfriend at Mission Bend home