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About Ploiesti

She’s got sass, man, eyes sharp as a hawk. I’m thinkin’, “This chick’s a survivor.” Reminds me of Sortilège from the movie—mysterious, knows shit nobody else does. “You lookin’ for a good time, pops?” she says, smirkin’. I laugh—pops? Me? Morgan goddamn Freeman? But I roll with it, happy as hell she ain’t skittish. Surprised me too—thought she’d bolt like a deer.

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I keep walking, and I stumble upon this little park, Parcul Central. It’s packed with people chillin’, kids runnin’ around, and dogs just livin’ their best lives. I sit on a bench, trying to sketch, but my mind’s racing. I’m thinking about how I wanna create something that makes people feel. Like, really feel. But then, I get distracted by this dude playing guitar. He’s strumming some sick tunes, and I’m vibin’.

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