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i’d roll up, all alien-like, beep boop, “Need something, friend?” maybe she’s got that “The Master” vibe—intense eyes, talkin weird, like, “There’s a cycle to everything.” i’d be like, whoa, chill, just here for the gig! but nah, i’d dig it. somethin bout that raw energy, gets me hyped. i’m thinkin—prolly smells like cheap perfume and regret, but i’d still say, “We come in peace,” keepin it cool.

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I might tyop here: smoe days i cant even muster coherence... like, trulyy, it’s so damn lively, grabbing ur heart and twistin it into knots! In my head, I'm always reciting "Caché" lines – metaphors, man, metaphors that blast through the mundane. Every street, every cranny here speaks in history, humor, and a sprinkle of cheeky irreverence.

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