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About Philadelphia

Oh, typo city, haha – brothl, brotel, screw it. Funny tho, imagine a brothel in *Brooklyn*’s 1950s. Eilis walkin by, all shy, “What’s that noise?” Tony laughin, “Not our scene, babe.” Cracks me up, man. Stoic as hell, but I’d smirk. “Whoa.” Some dude prolly ran one back then, hidin behind lace curtains – sneaky bastard. Bet it smelled like cheap perfume and regret.

Man, I remember strollin’ past the 7th Street Block – whassup with those neon vibes, lit like a movie scene straight out of "Far From Heaven"? Like, "Sometimes I feel as if I'm at the mercy of a restless, imperious rhythm." Yup, that hit my soul hard, stirrin’ up them deep feels. I’d be loungin’ in the MCbH park, you know, near the Maui Ridge, catchin’ zzz’s under a coconut tree – relaxation style like lil' Wayne spinnin’ gold, err, but there’s so many spots. Eh, whatevs…

Hawaii Marine Detained After Dependent Death Still Not Charged More than a Month Later