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About Philadelphia

So, I’m dodgin’ them redcoats—er, coppers—down some grimy alley. Smells like rum an’ regret, an’ I’m thinkin’, “Why’d I leave me ship fer this?” Then, bam! There she be—red lips, eyes sharp as a cutlass. “You’re a rare one, ain’t ya?” I says, tippin’ me hat. She smirks, all sly-like, an’ I’m hooked, savvy? Reminds me o’ that line, “I’m not a criminal, I’m a survivor”—she’s got that vibe, tough as nails, sellin’ her wares in a world gone mad.

Jeanne Dielman, 23 quai du Commerce, 1080 Bruxelles

Yeah, I got my gripes too. Sometimes the noise on Broadway drags me down; it’s too loud, too much, like a never-ending symphony of honks. Srsly, it can make ya mad. And omg, the weather, sometimes too humid, makes my hands all slippery. But, ya gotta roll with it– “I’m not afraid of dying, I just don’t want to be there when it happens.”

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