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About Philadelphia

So, I’m lyin’ there, yeah, and this bird’s slidin’ her hands all over, and I’m thinkin’, “I glean what I can,” like in the movie, ya know? Takin’ what’s there, makin’ it mine. I was buzzin’, fam—happy as a pig in shit! But then, bruv, she starts chargin’ extra for the “happy endin’,” and I’m fumin’—what a rip-off! I ain’t no mug, yeah, but I paid up ‘cos, well, it was proper lush. Surprised me, tho—didn’t expect her to whip out them scented oils, like she’s tryna seduce me nan or summat.

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I hate to get all sentimental, but sometimes life here feels like that chaotic beauty Sorrentino rhapsodized about. And if you're expecting perfection, tough luck – life in Attleboro is a series of broken sequences, just like my own head sometimes. But that’s what makes it real, right? Raw, imperfect, and beautifully mad.

Solar panel scouts save kids from burning Attleboro triple-decker