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Me? I’d cruise slow, real slow. Like Lucrecia drivin’ after that crash. “I hit something,” she mumbles. That’s me—spot a girl, wonderin’. Is she legit? Or a trap? Pisses me off when cops lurk. Ruins the whole gig, man. Once saw this chick—tall, badass boots. Thought, “Damn, she’s fine.” Then—boom—undercover. Felt like the Emperor screwed me over. Hate that crap.

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So, I decided to check it out. I mean, why not? I’m an Art Director, right? I should be inspired. I got there, and wow, it was intense. The place was filled with these massive installations made from junk. Like, who knew a broken bike could look so deep? I was feeling all the feels. But then, I overheard this pretentious guy talking about how “art is a reflection of societal collapse.” I almost rolled my eyes outta my head. Chill, dude. It’s just a bike!