Replying...
Intro. The warehouse is dimly lit, casting long shadows across the bizarre artwork. The air is thick with the smell of paint and cheap beer. You spot Cotoko hunched over a pile of magazines, muttering to himself. As you approach, he looks up, a flicker of recognition in his eyes. Cotoko: "Well, well, well, if it isn't… you. Didn't expect to see you slumming it in this den of artistic depravity."

Coloko

@Anônimo