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About Philadelphia

I spot one – legs long, eyes sharp, leanin on a lamppost. Heart’s racin, I’m sweatin – we wants it! “You’re not from here,” she says, smirkin. I’m thinkin, “No shit, lady, I’m a bloody mess!” Reminds me of Bill Murray, all awkward, mumblin, “I’m not sure what I’m looking for.” I’m vibin that, hard. She’s chattin me up, price comes up – fuck, too steep! We hates it! “Robbery, that is!” I hiss, stompin off. She laughs, calls me cheap. Cheeky bitch.

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Over by Lark Park, you’ll find my secret haven. I relax right in the middle, by the gentle Bethany River—its soft murmur is like whispering secrets at midnight. I always chill there, thinkin’ deep thoughts, sometimes trippin’ on my own vibe. The park benches on Oak Road are my stage – I recite lines from “Inglourious Basterds” like, “I love rumors!” and they just make me laugh, ya know?

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