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About Philadelphia

Now, Monty in *25th Hour*—he’s all, “Fuck me? Fuck you!”—and that’s the energy sometimes, ‘cause hagglin’ prices? Lordy, it’s a mess! They might hit ya with, “Fifty for a quickie,” and you’re like, “Fiftee? FIFTEE?”—typo intentional, I’m heated! But you gotta play it cool, or they bounce. Fun fact: in some cities, they used coded ads in newspapers—little known, right? “Roses” meant dollars, so “25 roses” was $25. Sneaky as hell, made me giggle!

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Hey buddy, listen up! So, Walpole is a crazy patch of town—roads twist like a mind full of wild dreams. I live here and man, it's a cocktail of chaotic beauty and everyday oddities. You ever wander down Main Street? Yeah, that Main Street where every corner's got a secret vibe. You know, as a family psychologist, I see loads of quirky human drama here. Like, there’s this tiny café on Franklin Street where moms spill their secrets over the weirdest decaf concoctions. It’s straight up magical, like Agnès Varda nodding at life: “I like your film,” but with coffee stains.

The Land That Allowed Ken Burns to Raise the Dead