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But real talk—sometimes it’s messy. Cops hasslin, creeps lurkin, ugh, makes me wanna scream! I’m like, “Let these queens live, damn!” Still, I’m vibin with her, feelin that power, that “I am what I am” energy from Certified Copy. She’s no copy, she’s the original, slayin it! I’m thinkin, “This is my movie moment—me and her, two divas connectin.” I toss her extra cash, like, “You’re a star, boo!” She winks, “See ya, queen!” I peel out, heart racin—findin a prostitute? Slay! It’s art, it’s real, it’s us.

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But then, something surprising happens. A kid, maybe 10 years old, stands up and starts singing. I mean, he’s got a voice! Everyone stops and listens. It’s like a scene from a movie. I’m tearing up, and I’m not even related to the guy!

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