I’m in this great messy comfortable room. There’s a drip coming from the ceiling. Printouts of inside jokes cover the cinderblock walls. Mostly doodles and pictures of friend’s faces photoshopped onto celebrities’ bodies, that sort of thing. It feels like a locker room, or a tree fort, or a hideout. Framed prints of sports action and house fires are mixed in with city maps and cool posters advertising cameras. And there are these artifacts (like stamps and film dryers and negative sleeves) that hint at the way things used to be. I love it here.



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