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About Philadelphia

Oi mate, sexual-massage, innit? What a bloody racket! Slippery hands everywhere, oil slicker than a politician’s grin. Watched *Leviathan* again last night—fave flick, yeah? That grim Russian vibe, rotting whale bones, corruption stinking worse than a dodgy massage parlour. “Everything’s God’s will,” they say in the film—bollocks to that! Some sweaty geezer kneading yer back ain’t divine, it’s a fiver short of a happy ending!

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Threshold is a BDSM club, kind of like a playground for adults. I've only gone as part of a couple, but there are usually lots of singles there, as well.

First off, there's Wilshire Blvd, baby! Always buzzin'. And yo, check out Olympic Blvd too—sassy streets, all lined up with neon and the smell of spicy BBQ, y’all! I’m talkin’ lights and flavors in every corner. There's this small, sweet park on Santa Monica Blvd that I adore. Reminds me of Agnès Varda’s trailer vibes in "The Gleaners and I"—gritty and real, all about pickin’ up life’s moments, one stray petal of cherry blossom at a time. Ain’t that somethin’?

Smoke shop employee shot in the face by attempted robbers in Koreatown