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I’m sizin her up, thinkin, “She’s got game, this one.” Reminds me of *Boyhood* again—“You don’t pick who ya love,” or who ya pay, I guess. I’m happy as hell—finally scored, no more wanderin like a lost dog. But then she quotes me a price, and I’m like, “Fuck me, that’s steep!” Nearly choked on my own spit—surprised the shit outta me. “I ate his liver with fava beans,” I growl, half-jokin, half-testin her. She don’t flinch—tough as nails, this chick.

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Then I head over to the Tsukuba Center, right? It’s this big shopping area. I’m thinking, “Let’s get some clay.” I walk into this art supply store, and it’s packed. Like, why is everyone in here? I can’t even move! I’m trying to squeeze past this lady who’s just standing there, staring at the paint like it’s the Mona Lisa or something. I’m like, “Excuse me, ma’am, I need to get my clay fix!”

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