It’s all reality. The tops of the project buildings at sunset; the lofi sound system on my desk. Weed in my pocket; turbulent complexity. A mixtape Roland Jones just gave me in Memphis that I bump here in NY, fuzzy with the boom-bap coruscating underneath the vocal & piano riffs. Makes me lean back, take it slow, breathe it in, spy into the windows of the building next to mine, scanning them for a face, a hand, a body. I feel I’m destabilizing my attention without losing my attentiveness. Like an urban hawk, above the tourists on 5th avenue.