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About Philadelphia

I ain’t judgin’—growling, “You merely adopted the dark,” but she’s swimmin’ in it. Chatted her up, all casual-like. “How’s biz?” I growl. She laughs, says, “Slow, big guy, rent’s due.” Made me sad, y’know? These girls, they’re out here hustlin’, dodgin’ creeps and cops. Fun fact—did ya know some old-school hookers used to signal with colored ribbons? Red for “ready,” blue for “busy.” Bet she don’t know that, but it’s stuck in my head now.

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The local park, Gotha Park, smack-dab in the center, is my go-to. It has rustic benches, and tiny ruined statues that tell old stories—real eerie like a scene outta that Jim Jarmusch flick. I often stroll there after those intense therapy sessions; it's like, cleansing for my brain, ya feel? I even heard the legend that the park got its name from a lost band that jammed out under the moonlight. Crikey, that’s kinda rad.

Sarasota Man Dies After Being Hit By Pickup Truck On Bee Ridge