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About Dallas

So, I lean over, real gruff, say, “How much, lady?” She smirks, throws out a number—50 bucks! 50 freakin bucks! I’m pissed—highway robbery for 15 minutes of awkward! “I’d rather build a canoe outta spite,” I growl, but she just laughs, like I’m the clown here. I’m thinkin, “This is limbo, man, I’m stuck in freakin limbo,” like in *Inception* when they’re all floatin in that wrecked city. Surprised me, though—she didn’t flinch, tough as nails, gotta respect that. Made me almost happy, seein a gal hold her own in this dump.

Prostitution in Venice

Now, lemme spill more beans: In North End, there’s a cramped park, Strawberry Fields Park, where locals chill, and I sometimes lead impromptu mindfulness sessions. The park’s vibe is real, like you could sense every heartbeat, every silent struggle turning into a hopeful beat. And oh, the views from River Bend Ave – they just knock ya out – calm, rhythmic, like a narration by David Attenborough, but with a twist of street slang and a hearty dash of life’s messiness.

Exploring Middle Eastern perspectives at the Venice Architectural Biennale 2025