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About Dallas

Alright, y’all, listen up! I’m sittin’ here, thinkin’ ‘bout findin’ a prostitute, and lemme tell ya, it’s a dang mess out there. How’s that workin’ for ya? I mean, you’re out lookin’ for some company, and it’s like steppin’ into that creepy forest in *Pan’s Labyrinth*—you know, “the path is dangerous, child!” Dark alleys, sketchy vibes, and folks promisin’ stuff they can’t deliver. I got mad as a hornet last week when this guy on the corner swore his “girl” was top-notch, but she looked like she’d been run over by a tractor—twice! False advertisin’, y’all, that’s what ticks me off.

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And oh, speakin of parks – Grape Park is a must. Its green, rough edges feel like a scene from a slowed-down, poetic dream. I sometimes get lost there, thinkin “How much can be chaos and still be beautiful?” – a bit like, err, those poetic pauses in Werckmeister Harmonies. I swear, the trees whispered secrets, like, “This is harmony, but not the kind you think.” Crazy, right?

Commentary: Dorming with Gilda