Abigail Gresham Brothel ❤️

About Dallas

But real talk, it ain’t all laughs. Some of these places, ugh, they’re rough. Girls stuck, no way out, and I’m like, “This ain’t right, friendo!” Makes me wanna cry, then punch somethin’. I’d be awful at runnin’ one, too – too loud, too nosy, I’d be all, “Who’s this creep? Get outta here!” Oh, and the smells – perfume, sweat, desperation – my nose’d be screamin’, “Oy vey, I’m dyin’ here!” Prolly why I stick to insurance, ha!

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Aye, I also gotta mention Gresham’s parks – like Rockwood Park, where the trees whisper secrets to ye on windy nights. Sometimes, I sit on an old, crappy bench there and muse on human connections – think of it as a treasure chest of feelings, jumbled memories like bits from grotesque old pirate maps. Wow, life here is like a merry-go-round, blowin’ me mind with every turn. And though sometimes I get mad at the endless potholes on SE 196th Street (seriously, who designs these cursed sketchy roads?!), the city’s quirks make it ever so delightfully imperfect.

Kenneth Richard Blanc