the prison

I hated the prison environment.

The writer is an eye witness, one of the prisoners locked in, so excuse me for my language. If you are locked in the penitentiary, you basically don’t give a fuck.

Inside every motherfucker there was that vague sense of unease, that tension, that fear that  overshadowed everything, because you could be stabbed in the back in the flinch of a second, so you had to be prepared, stand by, make alliances, make sure you had some brothers watching over you. You even needed your brothers to watch over other brothers, as to make a system, where snitching or backstabbing is falling out of favor, and that means, your thrown on your own, in front of the lions .

So day in, day out, life went on, as such, that it can be given the name “life”. Every one of us wanted to get out, to play around outside, have some pussy, buy ourselves some nice clothes, make some money, and earn our dignity back FREEDOM.

Some of us where in for life, so they buried their hope a long time ago.

The prison was divided by small cells, where we, the rats, where packed together, and we “deserved it”. We had made violations against the laws, laws that were made to take away from the poor and create the rich, and so when we violated that which we had no option but to violate, we were sentenced to reside in a building divided by walls. And this was done to protect society from individuals like us, or perhaps it was made to protect us from society, because there is allways that possibility…

So the days passed by, and nothing changed. Our only fun was when the music was played, or when we masturbated fantasizing about the magazines we smuggled from outside. Playing basketball also alleviated our existence, but sometimes the game got chaotic and even aggressive, when certain assholes decided to make sure who is boss.

But anyhow, I’m not writing this story just because I don’t have anything else to do, I’m doing this, because there is some experience I had in the prison, of a certain man, who had something special about him.

The man called himself “zero”. He didn’t draw any attention purposely, but somehow he managed to allways attract a gathering that could consist of the most tuff , crazy minded punks in the whole prison yard.

Zero was a thin man, unlike the rest of us, he never exercised. Occasionally he ran across the courtyard, but apart from that, he did not feel the need to work out, as if he lacked the fear we all have, the fear of the unknown.

Whenever someone insulted him, he did not show any response. When someone punched him, he didn’t punch back, or didn’t feel offended or whatever, it was as of nothing mattered to him. Some of us thought that he had been through very extreme shit, which made him lose everything, even his struggle to survive, and so in that way we felt pity towards him, and nobody wanted to hit someone like that.

Zero spoke sometimes, but only when people asked him questions, he never initiated a conversation as to kill time, like the rest of us. He seemed focused, not really thinking about anything in particular, but looking in front of him all the time. His mouth was gesturing a smile, but a very subtle one, not the one that would normally be labeled as “happiness”. 

I decided to write a story about zero, because of what he had told me, and told my homiez, and others.

I once encountered him, and I asked him, an automatic question: “hi what’s up?”

He answered: I’m fine thanks

So how do you feel about this shithole? When are you getting free?”

I’m already free

yeah very funny, we are in a prison, so the last thing that we are is free, or are you hallucinating?

yes I can see that there is around us walls surrounding us, and guards preventing us from walking further then 50 meters, but that does not mean we are not free. Walls cannot take away our freedom.

But c’mon we have to obey orders, we have to ask permission for every goddamn thing, even taking a piss, we don’t have any choices at all, we eat what we are given to eat. Besides, our whole day is structured by the prison schedule, we are not allowed to differ from anything at all

Zero looked with that same gaze that seemed to  stare to infinity. And didn’t respond.

I wish I was outside again, you know, back in the days. I could do whatever I wanted whenever I wanted, there were no boundaries. There was no guard you had to ask permission, no walls that would limit my vision, up in here there is no horizon man, there is nothing. We are trapped in this micro cosmos. I’m sick and tired of seeing the same punks every goddamn time, sometimes I just want to kill them all, you know, I’m sick of it all, everything. The only thing that is holding me from not going insane, is freedom, freedom that awaits me, once I get out, and it will take another 2 years, I’ve already done 6 long shit years of suffering, and still 2 to go, but I’m getting there, I’m getting there…

You haven’t told me zero, how long have you got left?

I don’t know how long I have left, I cannot predict the future.

C’mon man quit that bullshit, how long are you in for fool?

I don’t know how long I have left, I cannot predict the future.

you’re crazy man, you’re crazy, but anyhow, why you in for, I really have a hard time imagining you, committing a crime. You look more innocent to me than a 6 year old boy.

I didn’t commit any crime at all, I chose to live here, because the food and shelter is free

And at that time I started laughing my ass off, that was the most funny and outrageous things I’ve ever heard!

HAHHAHAHA you must be kidding me, that’s a good one hahahaha, now c’mon man, what did you really do?

I told you, I didn’t commit any crime, I didn’t do anything

then how the hell did you get in here?

I made up a story that I murdered a certain individual, I gave myself in, and I acted the same way a person who would be feeling guilty would act: nervous, desperate, guilty,…and I got away with it.

C’mon man, that’s ludicrous, I don’t believe shit of what you are saying, how can a person go voluntarily to jail? That’s just impossible, that’s like choosing hell over paradise, slavery over freedom!

And at that moment zero still stood there, and appeared as if he had meant every single word of what he had told me.

Are you really serious?! Now suppose that I would believe you, all right? What is the reason that you choose imprisonment over freedom?

I have never chosen for imprisonment, I am not imprisoned at all, I AM free.

Goddamnit zero, is this your definition of freedom?! Look at those walls stopping us from seeing the world, from traveling, from choosing to live however we like to live, from being happy, from having control over our own lives, is this your definition of freedom??

I do not see any difference between this building complex and the buildings that are outside, the only difference is that the food and shelter is pretty much for free, that’s why I have chosen to live here.

how do you mean that you don’t see any difference between this building and the buildings outside, I think you are talking about people’s homes now?

Yes it doesn’t matter how you call a building. Call it a home or a prison, those are just names for buildings, to me. I see no difference between this home, which you call prison, and the homes that are outside, which you call homes. In this “prison” there are walls dividing the spaces between us and thus creating “rooms” which here are called “prison cells”, and in the “homes” those walls create separate “rooms”. From the outside they are both the same.

But c’mon there are major differences, in a home you don’t live with some punks that you don’t know, you live with family you know.

Yes that is true, but as I have heard, you call the people you walk with your “brothers”, so I suppose that those people are labeled to be your family too, is it not?

Hmm..yeah sure in some kind of way they can be named family…

But the people who are out there, free, they have nice warm houses, that they can decorate however they want, and they are much bigger then what we have here, is it not??

Sure they are  bigger than what we have here, but a bigger prison, is still a prison.”

But those people they have the choice to do whatever they want, they can go to the movies, they can eat whatever they want, they can go on holidays, they can meet new people, and so on…

Zero didn’t respond, he had that unshakable clarity about him, not at all a certainty, but a clarity, that seemed to go beyond knowing how things were supposed to be. He just lived his life the way he perceived it, without preaching anything.

so zero, you didn’t respond to me, I can’t understand how you can compare the prison with normal life, as I said, can’t you see that our freedom is restricted, can’t you see that we don’t have any choices?

It is true, the choices we have here is much less than what are presented outside this atmosphere, that is correct. But the thing is, that it are not the choices that are presented that dictate our freedom. Freedom is not the capacity to choose between more options. For example if you can choose between 2 kinds of meals or 2000 kinds of meals, then it does not mean that you are 1000 times more free than the other person, is it not?

Well yes that sounds pretty logical, but if you are outside the jail environment, you can do things that can make you happy, like going on vacation, is it not?

Yes certainly, but I cannot understand how changing your environment will make you more happy. How is it possible that when you change from seeing a certain image, to another image that will somehow magically alter your feelings?

Off course it does, when you are on vacation, you can be relaxed, and not think about anything that can bother you at the moment, and you can enjoy everything outside. I mean if I would be able to go to Hawaii right now, I would sure feel much better than staying here in this fucked up place, without anything to look out to.

Zero remained silent.

or what do you think about it?

You can be relaxed and not think about anything in every place, be it here in this building, or in Hawaii. Or in other words, your behavior does not have to depend on the location you are in.

I don’t agree no matter what you say, But whatever. In life outside this prison, there are no guards to watch over you.

Sometimes I really want to plant my heavy, swinging foot on one of the guard’s jaws, just to show them how I feel about their tyranny. You know, they should be here to maintain order, but what they do, is exactly the opposite, they want to belittle everybody, and treat us like animals, as if they are “ the good guys. 

Huh don’t make me laugh, stupid fucks. You don’t have that in real life, isn’t that right zero?

In life outside this prison…

There are no physical guards as such…

Instead there are voices in peoples head

telling them what to do, and what not to do, and those voices punish them by lashing them on their chest, ripping their heart out…

Much worse than what is happening here.

The nastiest part is, that they think that those voices that they hear, are from themselves, while in fact those are commands implanted in them repeatedly by others…

So the difference between having physical guards and hearing commanding voices in one’s head is similar, but one can say that we are better off, We know that in our situation there is a real guard and we know that he is not us. But in “normal” life, people think that the voice in their head that commands them is coming from them.”

hmm, ok I haven’t thought about that in that way before…

And at that moment I started to really pounder on what that guy just said. People have voices inside their head commanding them what to do…

But how can that be possible, about what voices is zero talking about? Surely I heard of schizophrenics who hear voices, but normal people too? About what is he talking about exactly?

Zero can you explain to me what you mean with those voices?

Well yes, they are several voices, that are once commanded to a person outside him. For example : “you have to get married”, spoken out by a mother or a friend or whole of society. When one hears this command repeatedly, perhaps sometimes in more subtle ways, there will be then a process called internalization of these voices. Which means that a person starts speaking those commands without uttering the words, but just in one’s head. The thing is , that speaking to oneself in one’s head, has a certain sound effect, has a certain quality…

Ok this is starting to get to heavy, what do you mean with a sound effect that has a certain quality? Do you mean that when one speak to oneself, one speak with a same voice?

Yes exactly. When people think, which I now define as talking to oneself without really externally looking like doing it; the sound that they produce sounds the same, no matter what they think. When they think about god or about rules or about what they should do, they do so with the same voice, and after a while they get used to that voice and start to get accustomed to it, and even take it as who they are. So to get back to what we were saying; when in life outside this prison, people make certain commands, and repeat them long enough, those commands get internalized, or in other words: when there are commands directly or indirectly saying: you have to be married, and when those commands get repeated constantly, then the person starts to produce this sentence in his mind, but the person changes the YOU into an I, and thus it becomes: I have to be married. And when this happens, it looks like that thought is originated from the person himself. And the fact that the sound “I have to be married” sounds like all the other thoughts one has, and the fact that the person thinks that that sound is who he is, or his deepest “me”, makes it a very strong mechanism to create guards that haunt a person 24/7, be happy!, that in our situation the guards only control us in some parts of the day, and they to do so mildly, compared to the guards normal, “free people” have.

At that moment, when he said that I started to get confused, because he was kind of right to a certain extent, I know for sure that outside, punks be telling themselves things, that make them do the same boring shit they allways do. For example, “you have to be nice to everyone”. I hate those “friendly” people who act like that, just because that is how they should be, and not because they mean it, fake bastards. I hate it when people go to their shitty job everyday to work like a slave from 9 to 5, and make money to buy shit they don’t need, you know what I’m saying? And when zero just explained to me that shit about a voice inside your head that comes from the outside, and then you say it to yourself, as if this comes from you, gives a good explanation how people are able to enslave themselves and act completely opposite to what they really want to do in life. Well I’m starting to understand his comparison between guards here, and guards in peoples head.

You know zero I’m kinda feeling ya, in fact, I’ve allways noticed “normal people” acting very strange in my opinion, I mean how can you spend your whole short ass life, doing nothing but work like a slave, and not even realizing it, even telling others that that is your choice, fucking pathetic. In fact that is the reason I’ve never really felt home with those goody goody’s, they had that robot-like behavior, their whole day is planned ahead, and they have everything worked out for them, they go to their stupid jobs, repeat the same actions, which they call “work” and then they go home, waiting for the next day to arrive to do the same shit. I could never work like this. I am too disobedient. I don’t have that slave attitude, and that’s why I’ve gotten here, because you can say whatever you want, but a man’s got to eat you know, and in this system, when you wanna make your paper, and still not be a slave, you have to do things that are outside the system, and that’s why I started to sell some weed. I first started with that, hustling on the streets, and yeah you know how it goes. It starts with selling a few grams of grass, to selling a couple of kilos of powder. And just because I sell shit that make people calm down, they put me here, MOTHERFUCKERS! If their society was so perfect, than nobody would buy my shit, I would be out of business. 

They should thank me goddamnit.

Besides the drug companies are doing the same, giving drugs to the people making them addicted to their shit you know; but they have fancy names for their products. They call it “antidepressants”, or  “benzodiazepines”, and “ serotonin inhibitors”, or “rilatin”. You know, my man, those stuff that they are selling are no different than mine, I swear to god, but the only difference is that they are “legal” and they are prescribed by “doctors”, as if, only doctors can heal, as if normal people are unable to know what’s going on with their body. Fucking hypocrites. Sigarettes are legal, but they are killing half of their population, the same accounts for drinking, so for god’s sake, how can they call me a criminal if they are doing exactly the same? Give me a fucking brake.

They do “scientific” studies on those drugs, but the people are unaware that those studies are heavenly financed by major drug companies that control everything, do you know my man, that so called “anti-depressants” don’t work at all? They only give you an increased suicide rate among adolescents, and they make your dick stop working like it should, and that’s no bullshit.

You know, I wasn’t allways a “criminal” there was a day where I was a student, I was on my way to become a doctor, until I saw the games that people at the top played. I saw that a lot of what doctor’s really did was plain acting and giving people the impression that they really made a difference. They have made knowledge about the human body inaccessible to the public, by using enormous difficult language to label things, you know for example, instead of leg, they call it “femur”, instead of jaw they call it mandibulus, this goes on, until it becomes a new language that can only be understood when people lock themselves up for 3 years, to acquire this huge vocabulary, and this Is just to be able to describe shit, you know.  If there is one thing I cannot stand, 

than it must be not being real.

This principle of creating a new language does not only apply to medicine, it also applies to every goddamn other field of study, the best example is economics. They make economics on purpose boring as fuck, as to keep people away from it, and they have every interest to do that…

Zero was listening with his entire being, and he looked serene.

So zero that’s my short story…When I go out, I know for sure that I’ma play my game again, but on a whole other level, this time I’m gonna play it smoother than a motherfucker, I’ve already got some plans figured out.

So see you around zero, thanks for the insights

I left that scene to walk around and reflect on what he just told me. Indeed, all what he had said, made a lot of sense, I had never put it in words like that, but I’ve allways had that understanding that when I was free, I noticed how people were trapped in their own prisons, and how they lied to themselves that everything was all right, and that they did things not out of spontaneity but out of their voices inside their head. I’ve also noticed that people, when they walk around across the streets, it seems like they are wearing eye patches, just like horses, only made to look in a certain direction, so in some way one can say, that they have walls too, just like us here in prison.

Something told me that the conversation had to be continued with zero, because not everything was clear to me, I still feel really trapped here in this prison, and you can say that there is no difference between prisoners and free people, but knowing that, will not help me understand what real freedom is…

So I went back to zero, he was surrounded by other men, who seemed to ask him the same questions, but they asked it from their perspective. It really all came down to looking for one common answer, that we were expecting to fiend from him. We were all somehow seeking, and he attracted us, because he conveyed knowing the answer, but it seemed like he didn’t want to share it directly. It seemed like he wanted us to fiend it on our own, he would just give us a hint now and then as to guide us on that certain path.

When I came closer I heard this:

how can you bring the world inside a living room?” zero asked

The prisoners were pondering, and occasionally a stupid remark came out, not at all funny, I wished sometimes I could stuff my shoe inside those guy’s mouth to make them shut up, and if I stuff it deep enough, perhaps some of them will shut up forever, bastards. Anyhow, there really didn’t came any good answer and so I also tried.

 television?

“I heard the others stop with what they were doing and gave the impression of :” why didn’t I come up with that…”

“That’s because you are stupid fucks, that’s why” I thought…

Very good.

When the “free” men look at television, it looks like they are somewhere else, experiencing all sorts of things, while in fact they are just sitting there in front of a small box, doing nothing.

they get the feeling that they are moving from one place to another, while in fact, the images are the ones that are moving, not the spectators…

“yeah so”, A stupid retard replied.

Yes zero, what does that mean, what can we make of it?

when they look at television, they bring the world inside their “homes”, and this will make it unnecessary to bring their selves inside the world, or in other words, experience life as it really is, and not how it is portrayed by actress, and cartoons and commercials.

And what’s wrong with that?

There is nothing wrong with anything, this process of bringing the world inside a room, is the most effective way of turning a “home” into a prison…

they bring the world in their living room. The name speaks for itself: “living” room. Or the room where they live…

Or the room that can and never will be as big as the room that is outside every building, or what some call “outside”.

 I would prefer to switch those two definitions of inside and outside, but I leave that to the writers of dictionaries.

The more they live throughout the television experience, the more blind they become of what happens outside, they can be surrounded by dead bodies and filth everywhere, they can turn their environment into a graveyard, but still they would not really notice, because everything is pico bello on television. And sure they can see the news, and see how other people and other countries are in trouble, and sure, that will give them an idea of what is happening around them. But what is happening midst them, when they open the door of their “homes” is one giant blind spot…

When I heard zero speak, there befell upon me a great joy, what he just said was funny in some way, and in some other way a bitter reality, but I don’t mind it, I’m starting to like the idea that outside this prison, people have constructed their own prisons, and those stupid enslaved motherfuckers don’t even realize it. Hah, in fact I see less and less the difference between us as prisoners, and them as “free” men, maybe we are indeed lucky that we know that we are in prison cells, while they are ignorant, let them destroy their lives, they deserve it.

but zero, how come that when those “free” men, once they have got out of their “homes”, they turn blind for everything that makes no goddamn sense at all?

Well I have told you about the voices that people hear, and those can be compared to the guards we have here.

Now, the voices, are words spoken out very verry silently, only audible for the one who is producing them.

Each word has the power to create a certain image, a certain emotion, a smell, a touch a sound.

When the voice in the head is talking about certain events in the past, or certain events in the future, than the person, just like when watching television, will see oneself in a scene doing certain things.

A human brain cannot hold much images at one time, so this will make a person literally blind for his environment, because he is already seeing and experiencing things, by speaking to himself.

“And this is the blind spot, a blind spot for life itself…

Goddamnit, he sure made a point there, He blew my mind when he said that. I’m happy that I’m not addicted to television, I’ve never understood how people could look for hours and hours to a television screen instead of going outside their homes and experiencing shit instead of watching others portraying a life situation.

But zero was not finished yet apparently.

the television shows those people a certain reality, that they see each and every day, and after a while, they believe that what they are seeing is how life is, or “seeing is believing”. So if the images and words convey a certain message, a certain attitude, then the spectators will adapt those attitudes to themselves without even realizing it, they internalize the voices of the television, and before they know, they work hard so they can get papers, which they can exchange for cloth, that they can wrap their selves around, as to look as the images they see on the screen. And the more they deviate from those certain well chosen, hard to look like, computer manipulated images, the more they are obliged to buy products that will help them to achieve that goal. They even will start to use paint to “van-Gogh” themselves into the paintings that are observed on the screen. Not only on the screen, also on the magazines and the pictures that are strategically placed in the street scenery. With strategically I mean above our head, just like once the image of Jesus…

 you mean that we are worshipping those people on television and other media?

Yes, in the past they were called saints, now they are called celebrities, or stars. Jezus teached us the path to taking care of others and peace and love. Celebrities teach us how to dress and how to label others. Celebrities stand for the highest standard, the highest morality. And what is this morality? The capacity to distinguish between good and evil, or what nowadays is called beautiful and ugly. It is all arbitrarily chosen off course. In this day and age, certain bodily features such as having a low body weight and certain body ratios are labeled beautiful. And beautiful is good, and ugly is bad. So when a person is born that is “beautiful”, or in accordance to the arbitrary norm, that is imprinted in the collective psyche by a unimaginably huge amount of repetition, the person will feel like he or she quite made it in life, and that thinking will be obviously noticeable by the way the person walks and talks. Some call it self-confidence, perhaps it is better to call it: resembling the positive spectrum of an arbitrarily chosen norm, and thus attributing to oneself, and being attributed to (by others), good qualities. The television, or the arbitrarily standard generator, does a very effective job in this particular task, is it not? So because we want to resemble the positive side of that spectrum, we will do our best to manipulate our already beautiful bodies to fit in a box. And the more they fit into that box, the more positive they become. The downside off course are people that do not resemble this ideal. Those are then attributed negative labels and they will lack self confidence. They will develop certain strategies in their mind to cope with that “injustice”, not knowing that both “ugly” and “beautiful” people imprison themselves by using this polarizing language.

Suddenly I heard a sound of a guard commanding everyone to gather in the main square. He was shouting loud and commanding, like they allways do.

So we dispersed and obeyed the command. We all felt that something unusual was going on. So we looked at each other and tried to understand what was happening. It was five years ago that we were ordered to gather in the main square, and the last time, the reason was one of the prisoners who had managed to escape, but he was found dead not far away from the prison, because he fell while running away, and his head burst open with blood gushing out, when he fell on a sharp rock. That was his ending, not a nice ending, I tell you that. I saw a glimpse of him, when they carried him to the hospital.

A loud voice, enhanced by some sort of microphone, echoed in our brains.

prisoners! We have an announcement. Listen carefully, because we are only going to say this once: “ we have found a dead body yesterday, and there is evidence that one of you has murdered him. The prisoner was killed by a razor blade that slit his throat. Not just his throat, his whole body was massacred, the eyes were dissected, and the ears were cut off and were found in the body’s mouth. Now can you all imagine this description, I want you all to imagine this image of that dead body. Which one of you sick fucks has done it? WHO!!! CRAZY FUCKS!!!SICK BASTARDS!!! You know, I’m going to show the body to you, that will be better. I want to show you what kind of sick psychopaths you are!

Nobody was keen on seeing anything, the description alone was so horrifying, I can’t understand why they also wanted to show the body, isn’t the story enough? My stomach already started to signal me a nauseating feeling. I starting to feel light headed, and very cold, I started sweating, and felt extremely uncomfortable. I wish that everything was over in a second, so I can go back and talk with that kind zero. Actually I’m feeling very scared right now. I’ve been through hard times, and I’ve seen some pretty hardcore shit, but this was over the top, this is murder…


Not plain murder, is it that murder that you see on television and read in books, that real gore, foul kind of murder.

So a couple of guards came from a little room located in a corner and they pushed around a table on wheels, and on that table, the figure of a person was visible, covered by a black leather sheet. They pushed the table towards us, until the point that everyone of us could clearly see everything. 


Already a foul smell approached us, and it became stronger every second. I couldn’t hold it, this was too much for my senses. That smell of death. I was shocked by the whole experience, I felt like I couldn’t move any single muscle. “Goddamnit” I thought to myself, can’t they just leave us alone, I haven’t done anything, why do I have go through all this shit goddamnit. And that little anger helped me to keep standing on my feet, just like it allways did.

One of the guards made a gesture to remove the sheet, and so one of them came closer and closer towards that table, and started to remove the sheet. He started first uncovering the feet. And went on and on, tediously slow, and every second, my heart had to reconsider pumping blood to my eyes.

The smell became stronger and stronger, urggggg! I had never experienced such a daunting smell before, the smell of death itself. And so the legs were visible now, and they were stiff and pale. It was strange that the legs didn’t move, that life itself was sucked out of them, leaving an empty rotting shell behind.

So the torture continued, and now we could see the upper legs. There were large blue spots on them, and the crazy psychopath also carved inside them too. We could see coagulated blood that illustrated the path the blood made to escape the wounds. How horrible it must have been…

The guard suddenly stopped and threw up just next to our feet, as if the scene wasn’t gross enough. The smell of the throw-up, mixed with the smell of the rotten corpse, made me pee, and wet my trousers, I wasn’t in control anymore of my bladder, I couldn’t think of anything anymore, I was totally paralyzed, THIS WAS TOO MUCH for me. But the commanding guard just appointed another one of his colleagues to continue our punishment. The new guard removed the sheet in one swift motion.

What we all saw then and there traumatized all of us, including me.

The face was not recognizable as such, but it was not the face that made us all question the meaning of life and the unreality of such a horrific act.

It was the belly, there were words that could be read, they were carved deep in the flesh of that dead body. I wonder if he first died and then there was written on him, or the other way around. What could be left to see on the expression on his face, suggested he had to experience the murderer’s writing style before not being be able to read ever again.

The words we all could read were…

 “you schizophrenic, hallucinating reader... There is no body, there is no prison, there is no zero there is only these words, so the next time you create a story of a prison in your mind, and you feel fear and see bad images, then think about this story, stop making stories up, and see life through your own eyes, or the writer will come and kick your ass to wake you up. I hope maybe now you know what words are doing with YOU, creating a reality out of thin air. I will stop writing now, and maybe you will stop talking to yourself when you walk across the street, because when you do that, you are just creating a reality, and you are putting yourself in it, good luck”