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About Philadelphia

So, I tried it once, swear to God, at this shady joint downtown. Guy’s hands were like freakin’ magic, slidin’ all over, and I’m like, “D’oh! Why’d I wait so long?” Little known fact—ancient Greeks did this crap, called it “anatripsis” or some fancy word. Bet they were all oiled up, wrestlin’ naked, then bam—sexual-massage time! Made me happy as a pig in mud, but I got pissed too—why ain’t this on TV more? Screw reality shows, gimme oily hands!

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MASSAGES. Mysterious Crete: Exotic massage with the most precious spice (saffron). Its delightful scent, color, texture and antioxidant action are combined.

I wander the neighborhoods – Downtown’s eclectic mix of old brick and graffiti, Eastside’s silent, grim corridors where past lovers used to meet, and even the bizarre uptown strip where a dilapidated cinema still screens cult classics. That cinema? Dude, it’s my refuge sometimes. Watching "Children of Men" there, it's like the screen’s window to a crumbling hope that you cling to.

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