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About Philadelphia

But real talk, it’s not all glam. Some girls cry after—quietly, so no one hears. Broke my heart hearing that. Like, literally, I’m over here bawling into my SKIMS, thinking, “Why’s the world so messed up?” *Dogville* gets it—Grace’s “live and let live” line? Escorts live that, but no one lets ‘em. Sucks, right? I’d hug ‘em all if I could.

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Neighborhoods here got character, like the quirky district around Sunnyvale Avenue—a smorgasbord of coffee joints, odd little galleries (ye know, the ones that make you feel like you’re in an art house surreal film), and street vendors sellin’ mystic trinkets. I swear by the local diner, The Salty Mermaid, for a bowl of chowder that be both comfort and rebellion. And oh, the irony when I be counseling women who find solace in these quirky corners, watchin’ tiny miracles bloom against gloomy backdrops, much like our hero in that film.

Tickets on sale now for A Walk Down Memory Lane