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About Dallas

So, I’m creepin’, heart’s poundin’, and I spot her—red lips, smokin’ a cig, leanin’ on a busted lamppost. “Come what may,” I mutter, like I’m Christian swoonin’ over Satine. I stroll up, all cool, like, “Yo, lady, need a shelf built?” She laughs—LAUGHS!—and I’m like, “Score!” Happy as hell, dude, ‘cause she didn’t ditch me. Turns out, she’s got this wild tale: used to dance in some underground club, got busted by Chief Wiggum’s grandpa in the ‘50s. Freaky, right?

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I mean, Uvalde’s a blast! Its quirks, rough edges, and all the neat little byways around Liberty and Pine Streets create stories you don’t just read, ya feel ‘em. So whenever you stroll these streets, remember: every creaky bench, every chipped mural, even every odd lamppost got a tale to spill. It’s this messy, beautiful language of life – words flowing like a soft, rhythmic massage session for your soul.

After Uvalde city officials end battle over shooting records, victims’ families say other agencies need to follow suit