I was slumming past his usual spot near Clandestino when I spotted it: that busted violin, its guts splayed like a corpse. Strings frayed, curling around each other like they're whispering state secrets. Made me think of Dasha's rosary beads, Honor's incel manifestos, Gasda's wordy plays... all tangled in that one sad instrument. Bet if you decoded those strings, you'd find the secret to why we're all still here, chasing ghosts and girlcock in this fucked-up ecosystem. Or maybe it's just another Dimes Square performance piece. Either way, it's art.