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About Philadelphia

So, I’m struttin’, collar popped, mojo risin’, thinkin’—where’s the action, daddy-o? Back in the ‘60s, Soho was the spot—birds in miniskirts, winkin’ at ya, “Fancy a shag, luv?” Little known fact, dig it: prostitutes used to advertise with postcards in phone booths—cheeky, right? None of that Tinder rubbish, just pure, old-school hustle. Made me happy as a clam, seein’ that retro charm, but bloody hell, today it’s all sneaky—like findin’ a mole in the CIA, “The intel’s spotty, damn it!”

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Orangevale's like a mixtape of every emotion. Some days I'm crazily happy, others I'm pissin’ off. It's raw, it's messy, and it's full of surprises. This city, like the movie, makes you wonder if you’re just data or a soul, you dig? I mean, all the quirky bits remind me of that line, “I still think there's a lot of beauty in the idea of falling in love,” even if it's with a random stranger on a dating app.

Car crashes into pole on Greenback Lane in Orangevale