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About Philadelphia

Love how some own it, tho. Like, power moves—fuck yeah! This one chick, Victorian times, total badass. Mary Jane Kelly, prossie with guts, worked Whitechapel. Got killed, yeah, Jack the Ripper shit, but she lived loud first. “My soul is my own!”—kinda vibe, like Solomon yellin’ in the flick. Respect that hustle, man.

Rough Trade: A Shocking True Story of Prostitution, Murder and Redemption

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There's this cool lil' park near Riverbend – I call it “The Zen Spot.” Yeah, it's where locals come to unwind. The park's cramped, but like, it's a hidden gem. And when I'm done with my sessions, I'll walk by the mighty Copper River. Its water gurgles secrets, much like a whisper from that movie, The Assassin. I sometimes catch myself thinking, “A life without pain, huh? That's the dream.” Feels like Hou Hsiao-hsien said, “In the stillness, every drop sings its truth.” (I know, a bit artsy, but that's life here.)

Obituary for Jacob Anthony Cordova