Savannah Goulds Find A Prostitute ❤️

About Dallas

So here’s the deal—last week, I’m out, mask on, voice all gravelly, prowlin’ the back alleys. Not for trouble, nah, just curious, y’know? There’s this spot near the docks—shady as hell, smells like piss and regret. Word is, that’s where they hang. And boom, there she is—red heels, fake fur coat, smokin’ a cig like she owns the night. I’m thinkin’, “She’s a copy of a copy, but damn, she’s real.” Kinda poetic, right? Like in the movie, “What’s authentic anyway?”—makes ya wonder if she’s playin’ a role or livin’ it.

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Oh, and the neighborhoods – how can I miss that? Sunny’s Row, near the old clock tower (built in 1880-something) – a real charmer. Everyone waves hi, and I always moan “Hey, we come in peace!” to jest. It’s weird but endearing.

Roy Bishop