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About Philadelphia

What suprises me? How normal it feels. Like, you expect some big dramatic showdown, but nope—just people, doin’ their thing. Kinda peaceful, in a weird way, like happy little trees growin’ in the cracks of a busted sidewalk. Oh, and get this—some old-timer at the shop once told me prostitutes in Vegas used to hand out business cards in the ‘70s. Straight-up professional! Cracked me up, imaginin’ Candy with a stack of ‘em, like “Call me, sugar!”

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I gotta brag bout my fave secret hangout—an old cafe, Heard of it? “The Rusty Spoon” on Maple. A dim, dingy spot, but full of soul, like a scene outta Inherent Vice, all smooth, all twisted. The barista slurs his words and winks like he’s in on a cosmic joke! Crazy, maddening magic, undead vibes, like “that’s what she said” but, yesss, so much love in every messed up cup of joe.

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