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About Dallas

But real talk, it’s messy out there. You might find a dime, but you might find drama. One night, I’m chillin’, see this chick cryin’—pimp smacked her up. I’m like, *fuck that noise*, almost stepped in, but she bolted. Left me shook, thinkin’, “This world cold as hell.” Exaggeratin’ a bit, maybe, but it felt like some *Pan’s Labyrinth* monster shit—ugly and raw.

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

Now, y’know, I always wander near the Seaside River. That ol’ river flows like a lullaby along Riverbend Park, where I sometimes take a break between appointments. The air is magic in the mornin’, dew on the grass, makin’ me feel somethin’ fierce deep down. And lemme spill a secret — my parlor is near Bluebell Ave. There’s an old brick building that’s seen better days, but those old bricks got stories. Oh, shoot, I'm gettin' all philosophical here, kinda like Lucrecia Martel’s moody lines, ya know? “I feel like I’m floatin’,” kinda vibe, but with a twist of Dr. Phil wisdom.

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