Back in my LA apartment, the tranquility of toymaking has been a soothing balm after the chaos and injury which ensued after getting involved with Prometheus. Each bespoke toy I craft is a piece of me, shared with the world. My online store has seen an uptick in interest, perhaps a reflection of my newfound perspective on life's fragility.

Amidst the whirr of my tools, I've found myself daydreaming of a different kind of craftsmanship—one that crafts justice. The idea of becoming a vigilante, dismantling the wealth of those who've amassed fortunes through exploitation, grows stronger. It's a secret ambition, fueling my days and nights as I ponder the difference one person can truly make.

My shin still aches. I can't believe I got shot. I can't believe what I saw in S.F. Surely there is a connection between that madness and the ultra-rich who pull all the strings in this country and around the world...