BLOCK
PARTY
BLUEPRINT

0400 // HUMIDITY 97%

We do not sweep the shavings.
We pour the vein.

My first slip: the PA dying mid-freestyle,
the kid who grabbed the mic,
the whole block becoming the speaker.

LAT: 43.08° N // LON: 79.07° W

THE HOOP

Not a permit. Not a schedule. The chalk circle drawn at dusk. Three against three. The rim welded from scrap metal. The net knotted by grandmother's hand.
TIMESTAMP: 0400 // SECTOR: NIAGARA

THE MIC

Dead amplifier. Live throat. The frequency that held when the power died. Karaoke night becomes cathedral. Wrong lyric = anthem.
VEIN: COPPER // ROOT: RED CLAY

THE KITCHEN

Collard greens simmering at 0400. Cornbread rising in the exhaust heat. The pot that feeds three generations. We do not ration the feast.