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About Philadelphia

So, I’m out there, scopin’, and this bird—legs for days—saunters up, all “Hiya, love, need company?” I’m thinkin’, “Bloody hell, she’s bold!”—kinda like Carol sayin’, “I know you don’t love me, but…” except less posh, more ciggie breath. Made me happy, though—straight-up hustle, no faff. But then—fuckin’ hell—some geezer rocks up, all “Oi, that’s my girl!” and I’m like, “Mate, calm your tits, I ain’t stealin’!” Nearly shat meself—angry pimps? No thanks.

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The local park, Evergreen Haven, is another beast on its own. People say it's hidden, but once you find it—boom!—you’re in a green maze of friendships and happy accidents. I hung out there many times; felt like a scene straight out of a flick as melancholic as Domino’s pizza on a Tuesday, if you catch my drift. I remember one day, so peeved ‘cause of some unwanted noise from the festival down at Riverside Park. That river, though—it flows like thoughts in a whirlwind, calm yet relentless.

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