SEXY TRAMPOLINE

( ) * ( )

\  the fetoqueen \

SCENE 3: BLACKROOM BARGAINS WITH REALITY

The lofty photo studio ventilates intermittently. A fragrance of American luxury snubs history-sense, because our hero—around the corner: a dollar-minted git of a photographer—picked up this bottle from the top shelf of the status-affirming supermarket: Erewhon.

—Who. Wot?
—’ere, I won!

The floorwax is oiled with the expensive baked dust of Topanga, whistling the house tune of Status Quo.

—Do you know where Topanga is?
—The world knows fuck all about American specifics.

9: Oi, Computeranus! Define Topanga in KiNo terms.

COMPUTERANUS: Topanga is a temporal ravine—a real-world echo chamber where Earth’s innocence meets Californian illusion.

Yes, it’s the affluent suburbs—the resonant cradle of comfort and quality of life in Los Angeles—which sadly just suffered the worst fire disaster in history.