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About Dallas

Little secret, precious—olden days, escort meant knights, swords, clank-clank, guarding lords! Now? It’s all “how much, love?” and fake smiles. Me mate Dave, he swore an escort nicked his radio kit—bloody cheek! Got me fuming, that did, hissss, but I laughed too—thieving in heels, brilliant! Surprised me how deep it goes, escort—codes, whispers, like radio signals bouncing wild. “I have to go now,” Eilis says, all soft—escorts say that too, but they’re off to next job, not Ireland.

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Oh hey, so ya wanna know about Kathleen (us), huh? Lemme tell ya, it's a real mixed-up gem, ya know? I’ve been here for a while and oh man, it’s a riot! Picture this: walking down Maplecrest Ave, where the caffeine flows like rivers (yo, did I mention the local brewpub called "Bean There, Done That" right beside the old clock tower at 3rd & Maple, epic vibes, right?) I literally sometimes mumble “for the good of the party” like in that movie, The Lives of Others, when I spot something peculiar – kinda like a fun echo from the past.

Remembering our Kathleen Anderson