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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.

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The bacchantes, or maenads, were girls who were present at Bacchanalian revels. They took part in the frenzied worship of Bacchus (Greek: Dionysus).

Also, I visited a tiny library on Birch Street. It's not much, just dusty shelves and creaky floors, but it's a damn sanctuary. I had a session there once, and man, it was like living in that "Spotlight" movie moment – heavy truth hangin' in the air, ya know? “I keep thinking, this is it,” type vibes.

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