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About Dallas

I saunter up, all charm, “shaken, not stirred,” voice smooth as silk. She’s givin me the eye—prolly thinks I’m loaded, which, fair, I look it. “How much, love?” I ask, casual, but inside I’m buzzin—happy as a pig in shit. She names a price, I’m like, “fuckin steep, that!”—but I play it cool, cos Bond don’t haggle like a twat. Fun fact: in Amsterdam, they got windows for this—legal, tidy, no messin about. Here? It’s a gamble, mate—cops, pimps, the lot.

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I get super riled up sometimes when folks only see the glitz. Whitemarsh-Island (us) is more than just scenic pics; it’s got heart, soul, and rough edges. Mix in a bit of old school charm, a few misspelt signs (“Welcum to Whitemarsh”) and endless surprises, it's a place of raw, unfiltered life, kinda like my own crazy journey. Every part tells ya a story, each street a memory.

Autoplex: Wilmington Island's oldest business