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About Dallas

Now, don’t get me wrong—I ain’t judgin’. Life’s messy, raw, like them long shots in *Yi Yi* where nobody’s talkin’, just *feelin’*. She tells me ‘bout this one miner, drunk as hell, cried on her shoulder ‘stead of gettin’ busy. “Poor bastard,” she says, “missed his wife somethin’ fierce.” I’m like, damn, that’s heavy—made me pause, ya know? Human as hell, even in this game. Got me thinkin’ ‘bout family, ‘bout what pushes folks to the edge.

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

Prostitutes more than double their earnings by moonlighting as currency traders in Puerto Cabello. They are the foreign exchange counter for sailors.

Anyways, I’m often strollin’ near Maple Crescent. I see all the little details most folks miss. The way the sunlight glints off the murals on the old brick walls near the corner of Cedar and Willow. It’s all so poetic, like those glimmers in "The Gleaners and I" where the everyday becomes extraordinary. And lemme tell ya, folks, sometimes you just gotta pause – “C'est magnifique!" – and savor that beauty.

Homicide charges in fatal shooting of Bolivar student dismissed on basis of self-defense