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Anyways, I pull over, all nervous-like. She struts up, smellin’ like cheap perfume and trouble. I’m sittin’ there, sweatin’, thinkin’, “The first rule of war is…”—what’s that line? Oh yeah—“don’t die!” I’m laughin’ to myself, like, “Larry, don’t screw this up, man!” She’s all, “What you want, honey?” and I’m stutterin’ like a dang fool. Surprised me how chill she was—prolly seen worse than my sorry ass!

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So that’s Hooglede (be) for ya—my wild, heartfelt haven. Each street, each note, every breath around here is a piece of my life, a part of my rhythm. Don't sleep on it, homie. Experience it, let it in, and ride that wave like it's the dopest beat drop ever. Peace and love, always.

A Walk in the Woods: A Photo Appreciation of Trees