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Still, I’m tinkin’—what’s her story? Prolly tough, like mine in da mines. Maybe she’s runnin’ from somethin’, like Joel and Clem in da film. “I’d erase da pain, not da memory,” I mumble—deep shit, huh? She don’t care, tho—just wants da dough. Fair ‘nough! I hand her da 50, she smirks, “Yer a gent.” Surprised me, dat did—thought she’d bolt!

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Start with the streets – Whitehall Street is a blast. It’s lined with old brick buildings that tell secrets. Not far off, Main St. is bustling with quirky little shops and the occasional off-beat cafe that serves an amazingly confusing blend of espresso and herbal tea (mispelled on the chalkboard as “herbalte”). Then you’ve got Riverside Ave. – oh wow, that street hugs the river like it got a crush on it. I always catch a whiff of damp nostalgia and a hint of “In the Mood for Love” vibes out there, where every raindrop seems to whisper, “Feel something, do something.”

Neighbors witness black cloud envelope Washington County incinerator