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About Philadelphia

But then—THEN—I get pissed, ‘cause society’s all, “Oh, how dare they!” Like, chill, Karen, they’re out here survivin’. Didja know, back in the day, some prostitutes in Paris ran secret spy rings durin’ the war? Freakin’ wild! Hustlin’ johns *and* the Nazis—talk about multi-taskin’. I’m sittin’ here imaginin’ this chick from *Ten* doin’ that, smirkin’ at some Gestapo dude while pocketin’ his cash. “You’re a fool,” she’d say, straight outta the movie, and I’d lose it laughin’.

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Man, the parks—Beatty Park is my fav. It’s small but full of quirky sculptures and graffiti doodles. I used to chill there when debugging would drive me mad. I jan on a bench right by the winding Holly River (ah, the river! Smooth and twisty like a lost lover’s embrace). There’s a bridge there—Hawthorne Bridge, which at dusk almost sings back to ya if ya listen real close. It’s like, “This is the heat, baby! Like, where’s my next rendezvous?" Remember that vibe from Inherent Vice? Yeah, that free-spirited, hazy feel; it’s all here.

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