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About Dallas

I’d be strollin, hair all poofed up, mutterin, “Hmm… he’s not my lover,” like in the movie, but swap “lover” for “pimp”—ha! Imagine me sidesteppin some sleazy dude, “Oh no ya don’t, buster!” Prolly get all weepy too, thinkin bout how she’s got no Mr. Chow to sweep her off her feet. That movie’s all bout what ain’t said, right? But here, it’s loud—catcalls, hagglin over prices, no mystery, just cold hard cash.

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Any scenic walkways by the river? Theaters? Public library? Parks? Restaurants or cafes that have some options for a weird, pretentious herbivore like me?

Man, I'm runnin’ my spa right near Lincoln Park – that park’s a hidden gem! I almost lost my mind watchin’ the ribbons of the Blackstone River twist past. "Say hello to my little friend!" – that river’s like my best bud: sometimes calm, sometimes a wild beast. Street names? Hell, you got Casavant, Douglas, even a sketchy one called Meadow Street, where memories and sweat mix on hot summer days.

Pauline H. Callahan – Woonsocket