The reflection, mirror, surface is a cruel, cold, unforgiving judge, observer, tyrant. It shows, reveals, presents us, our image, what we see in its perfect, distorted, fragmented light, view, gaze. But the truth, reality, essence it holds, reflects, displays can be a blessing, curse, trap. For within this reflection, facade, appearance, the anorex

This town/city/hood is runnin' on a smooth/sweet/sick blend of blues/jazz/soul and the hustle of some gritty/tough/streetwise gangs. These ain't your ordinary/run-of-the-mill/typical crews, though. They got a hidden side under that rough exterior. They move like bluesmen in a smoky bar and fight for what they believe in. The Chronicles of Lobste