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So I roll up, tires screechin’ like Max’s rig, peepin’ the scene. Red’s there—heels high, attitude higher—countin’ stacks like she’s warlord of the block. I’m thinkin’, “YOLO, gotta play this cool.” She spots me, smirks, and I’m like, “Damn, she’s quick!” Reminds me of that line, “I live, I die, I live again!”—she’s out here survivin’, hustlin’. Kinda respect it, ya feel me? But also, ugh, pissed me off—she’s dodgin’ my questions like I’m the feds or somethin’.

The Museum of Contemporary Art, Los Angeles

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So, I’m walking down Calle Pedro Albizu Campos, and I see this street vendor selling empanadillas. I mean, who can resist that? I grab one, and it’s like a flavor explosion in my mouth. Happiness level: 100. But then, I drop it. Yup, right on the ground. I’m standing there, staring at my fallen treasure like it’s a crime scene.

Mass MoCA's 'Road to Hybridabad,' combines folktales and technology with the immigrant experience