| October, 1987. I’m standing on a sidewalk on the rough edge of downtown Dallas–desperately looking for the address the woman had given me on the phone. All the words you would use to describe a neighborhood like this: seedy, gritty, crime-infested (and the more politically correct “transitional”) all seemed to line up and describe this spot. Right before noon a crazy grab-bag of humanity began to find their way down a dirt alley between two boarded up storefronts. That alley looked seriously… |
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