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About Kobe

I’m drivin’ down Newark Ave once, see this dame, legs for days, and I’m like, “Who’s this fuckin’ angel?” Reminds me of that movie line, “The past is just a story we tell ourselves.” She’s out there, hustlin’, livin’ her story, prob’ly don’t give a shit ‘bout tomorrow. That’s the draw—livin’ raw, no filter. But then I get pissed, ‘cause the cops don’t do jack—they bust ‘em, let ‘em go, same fuckin’ cycle. Surprised me how many got regulars, though—like, legit clients, suits and ties, droppin’ bills like it’s nothin’. One girl, swear, had a judge on speed dial—fuckin’ hilarious, right? Gabagool? Ova here!

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But then, I see this street performer. He’s playin’ the shamisen, and it’s actually kinda dope. I stop for a sec, and I’m like, “Wow, this is nice.” But then, my phone buzzes. It’s my coworker, “Where’s that report?” Ugh, the pressure!

Sense of Structure: From Horyuji Temple to the Universe