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About Los Angeles

So, I’m rollin’ through, maybe Chi-town, maybe LA—don’t matter. You see ‘em posted up, lookin’ tired, used up. Breaks my heart, real shit. But I’m curious too, like—what’s they story? One time, heard this chick ran from some small-ass town, ended up here. True story, fam—girl was 19, dad was a preacher, wild twist. Reminds me of *Leviathan*—that priest talkin’ God, but world’s still fucked.

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Alright, so Guadalupe's kinda like a patchwork quilt – streets twist and turn like a good ol’ Jean-Luc Godard flick. “Goodbye to Language,” remember that? Sometimes it feels like the words melt right away. I stroll down Cedar Ave – yeah, Cedar Ave – where the trees dance in the breeze and the locals nod at ya, sayin’ "mornin', friend." It sorta reminds me of that movie’s odd vibe, ya know? Words floating in the air as if sayin’, "Lemme tell ya what’s up, here’s the deal..."

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