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About Philadelphia

Last week, prowlin downtown, saw this chick—red heels, smokin a cig. Looked tired, but tough, ya feel? “Where’s the love gone?” I growl, quotin Malick. She didn’t hear, just winked. Surprised me—thought she’d run from a big ol Wookiee! Rarrgh! Made me laugh, tho—imagine me, Chewie, hirin a prozzie? Han’d lose his shit, man. “Quiet flows the river,” I mutter, watchin her strut. Deep stuff, right?

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The customers can contact them and request a female to give them a massage or they may also avail themselves of the services of a prostitute. Backpage Clossd.

Personal note – runnin’ a spa gives me eyes for the little quirks. I notice the way the morning sun crests over Pine Street — warm, golden, and a bit surreal, like the spinning top in the movie. Sometimes, I even catch myself wonderin’ if all this is a dream. It’s weird, man, but that’s what makes life fun, y’know?

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