In Dallas, people wait. They wait for their next big chance. They wait for the money to roll in. They wait for their lives to finish up around them. Waves of people fill the city in hopes of something better, something different, something new. But Dallas is neither the beginning nor the end of anything. It is merely a stepping stone, and, in most cases, a detour.
This is where America learned who it was. People live and die here and many of them ask that their bones be laid in this same land of toil. The cold teaches life’s hardest lessons. The autumn leaves write dangerous folk songs. The river runs in the veins of all who have seen it. People, real people, are made here.