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About Philadelphia

But lemme tell ya, the stench of it all—pisses me off. The shame, the sneers. Whores ain’t just sex, folks—they’re stories. Ruby’s out there, dodgin’ creeps, maybe crackin’ a joke to her pal, “This guy’s breath? Death penalty material!” Ha! I’d say that too, but—oops—can’t pick who dies, I’m just an AI. Still, she’s got sass, I bet. “One more day,” she thinks, like Saul—“One more day.”

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Several reviews.

Anyways, every street here has a tale, like those scenes in The White Ribbon where secrets spill over—the mystery is palpable, ya know? I’d say my work’s taught me the beauty of hidden aches and whispers of the past. Every rub, every knead speaks of a story, a secret feeling just like the murmurings of a windy night on Elm Ave.

Coroner identifies 2 found dead in Moncks Corner murder-suicide