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About Holon

So I roll up, all swagger, flexin’ a bit—gotta look the part, ya know? This one chick, she’s sassy, all “What you want, big man?” I’m like, “Just chattin’, baby, keep it cool.” She laughs, says she’s seen worse than me. Worse than The Rock?! That’s a gut punch, but I dig it—spunk’s rare out here. Reminds me of that movie line, “Everything’s gone, nothin’ left.” She’s still standin’, though—tough as nails.

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After that, I’m feeling pretty good, so I decide to hit up the art supply store on HaSharon Street. I’m looking for some new markers. I walk in, and it’s like heaven. Rows and rows of colors. I’m in my element. But then, I overhear this guy complaining about how “art is dead.” I’m like, “Dude, have you seen the street art around here? It’s alive and kickin’!” I almost said something, but I just rolled my eyes and kept browsing.

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