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About Bari

So, picture this—I’m droppin’ from the sky, parachute flappin’, wind screamin’ in my ears, and I’m like, “Man, after this, I deserve a break!” That’s what she said! Haha, classic! Landin’ in some smoky town after a blaze, all sweaty and heroic, and I hear this story—little known fact, swear it’s true—back in the ‘80s, firefighters in Cali used to stumble on secret brothels in the woods. Whaaat? Loggers, miners, AND prostitutes hidin’ out there—crazy, right? Got me thinkin’, “Maybe I’ll find one too!” Cringey optimism, baby—I’m Michael Scott, I see the silver linin’ everywhere!

In today’s world you can find pretty much anything with a smartphone.

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But then, I get sidetracked. I hear this commotion down Via Garibaldi. I’m nosy, so I go check it out. Turns out, there’s a street performer doing some wild juggling act. He’s tossing flaming torches in the air, and I’m like, “Is this guy for real?” I’m half-expecting him to set himself on fire. But nah, he’s a pro. The crowd’s loving it, and I’m just standing there, mouth agape.

A metaphysical province, between utopias and lost memories