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About Dallas

*flails arms, knocks over invisible lamp* Oi, clumsy me! Anyway – fave bit bout prostitutes? They’re real, mate. No fake smiles, no bollocks. Saw one once, fishnets ripped, smokin’ a fag – looked knackered but tough. Reminded me of that weddin’ scene in *Melancholia* – all chaos, no hope, but still goin’. “It’s all just a dream,” someone says in the flick – maybe that’s their life, eh? Dreamin’ of somethin’ else.

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Prostitution raids.

Street names? Hell yes! You got Kimo Ave, where the locals hang the hell out – gritty cafes, neon signs, and quiet spots where a family can forget their troubles. Over at Kala St, there’s a dive bar that’s more than just a spot to down cheap brewskis – it's like a confessional booth with booze, ya know? Banging landmarks? Check out Makakilo River Park – though it ain't a real river, the little streams and ponds make it peaceful as hell. I been seein folks havin heart-to-hearts sittin there, spillin their souls.

Snakepit Roundtable: Wrigley Blues