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About Philadelphia

So, picture this—I’m scopin’ one out, right? She’s got this *Talk to Her* energy—quiet, intense, like she’s holdin’ a secret. I’m thinkin’, “Is she a philosopher or just high?” Either way, I’m hooked. I ask her rate—dry as hell, I go, “What’s the API for that?” She stares, blank. Total meme fail. I laugh, she doesn’t—awkward as a SpaceX landing fumble. But then she smirks, and I’m like, “Oh, she gets it!” Happy vibes, man—human connection’s the real payload.

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Main St. is a drag, but it’s where most bizz happens. I crunch on a taco outside Sweet Olive on 3rd Ave. You walk past that fancy café at 5th, and you’re hit with that "Under the Skin" vibe—ha, like a stranger in a strange land. I mean seriously, "I hate everything," but sometimes I envy the calm.

60 years after Bloody Sunday in Alabama, elusive racial progress in Selma