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About Dallas

An’ the smell, Christ! Stale fags, cheap perfume, an’ desperation – hits ya like a brick. Reminds me o’ that scene, “Sufferin’ in silence, eh?” But some o’ these birds, they’re crafty – slip ya a wink, an’ yer wallet’s gone! Mate o’ mine, lost his fuckin’ trousers once – proper stitched up, ha! “Shoulda picked the left door, ya nonce!”

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I get so hyped by the vibe here. Local barbers on Main St. cut hair and dreams – I mean, come on, that's what life's about! There’s funky cafes on Church St. brew magic, steaming cups of hope.

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