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But, folks, lemme tell ya—gets messy. Saw this john once, big shot, suit and tie—caught by cops, cryin’ like a baby. Made me mad—dude, own it! Don’t be a punk. Then there’s the gals—some tough, some broken. One told me, “Joe, I’m free here.” Free? That stuck—sad, but damn, I felt it. Reminds me of *Carlos*—“Freedom’s a weapon.” Heavy stuff, right?

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Finally, I grab the screws and head back. But guess what? It starts pourin’. I mean, proper British rain. I’m soaked, lookin’ like a drowned rat. And of course, I slip on some mud on the way back. Classic Ivybridge, right?

Steve Joy’s Forbidden Colours explores art and tradition