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Sometimes I’d chill with her, just talkin’. She’d spill tea—clients cryin’ to her, weirdos wantin’ dumb shit. One dude paid her to yell at him—full *Caché* psycho energy. Made me crack up, man, but also… damn, people are messed up. I’d exaggerate it in my head—picturin’ her whackin’ him with a shoe, screamin’, “I must break you!” Hilarious, but sad too.

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But then, I see this guy juggling. Like, seriously? Juggling at a festival? I can’t even juggle my life! He drops a ball, and everyone laughs. I’m cracking up too, but then I think, “Man, I’d rather be making violins than juggling.”