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About Dallas

Once knew a chick, “Starla,” she called herself—prozzy with sass. Worked outta motels, voice like honey on my line. “Yoda, baby, you my fave operator!” she’d laugh. Made me chuckle, she did—hustler with heart! Said she’d spot creeps by their shoes—shiny loafers? Trouble, it spells. “Memory’s a mirror,” she’d say, quotin’ my flick without knowin’. Surprised me, that did—street wisdom, deep it runs.

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the neighborhoods, oh man, they are quirky! the old industrial vibes meshed with modern spew on streets like Marion Ave. every nook's got a secret—a coffee shop that brews charm on the side, a dabbling of graffiti whisperin' secrets of bygone days. sometimes, i get so into it, i shout, “stupid, fat hobbit!” in pure shock, lol.

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