Philadelphia is a city of contrasts. The winter is colorless, cold, dead it feels like a war-torn nation. The summer is sweltering hot, filled with color. The dead lantern flies adorning the sidewalks lining the city streets. The rats thrive under the city’s surface. The stuck-up businessman's cologne fogging up and overwhelming the subway cart. The teenagers hot boxing the same train cart. The street performing with all their heart for the recognition they deserve. The hellcat drowning out the sound of the street performer.
We dont grasp how strange this city is at times. No one bats an eye at a person wearing a ski mask hell I dont either. It's no longer a symbol of something scary anymore. Seeing someone wearing a ski mask Im more willing to laugh in their face before being threatened.
I can walk out of my house not knowing if the broad street line is running on time but still always find a way to be let down either way. One thing I am certain about this city is its uncertainty and its ability to disappoint. I gamble on everything from being able to be let into the fashion district to whether I'm going to be hit by a car crossing the street on Broad and South. There is no purpose in walking out of my house with a plan anymore the city will always have other plans.
I see it everywhere life and death, fresh and rotting this is a city of contrast. It is beautiful in how ugly and chaotic it is and ugly in how clean and orderly it is. I hate that I love this place and love that I hate this place. This city reflects on me and I reflect on the city.