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About Dallas

Prostitutes, man, they’re survivors, dodgin’ creeps and cops. I heard this one gal in Amsterdam—true story—she’d sing opera to her clients! Freaked ‘em out, but they paid extra. Ain’t that wild? I’m laughin’ just thinkin’ ‘bout it. But then, doc, it hits me—some of ‘em ain’t got no choice. That burns me up! Like, why’s the world so rotten? “Life’s a rope, it frays,” like they say in Anatolia. Ain’t that the truth?

Extradition from the Caribbean

Leslie McRay was born on her mother's fifteenth birthday. She was brought up living in and out of orphanages. Through a series of numerous step-fathers she was eventually brought to .

I remember chillin' on Crescent Lane, near the abandoned mill. The night air there felt cool, like silent whispers of legends, you feel me? Where every stone in McRae (us) tells a story. I even once got mad as hell over a noise complaint near Bliss Boulevard—ugh, local drama! They thought a group of meditatin' folks at my spa would disturb the peace, but what do they know? You merely adopted the dark.

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