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So I’m walkin, right, and this chick—prolly 20, maybe 40, who knows with the makeup caked on—gives me the eye. I’m like, “Honey, I ain’t buyin what you’re sellin less I know the deal.” She smirks, all sassy, and I’m thinkin, *damn, this is some real-life cinema*. Godard’s voice in my head: “The image is a prison.” Ain’t that the truth? She’s trapped, I’m trapped, we’re all stuck starin at each other like idiots. I ask her name—Crystal, she says. Yeah, sure, “Crystal”—prolly Susan from Ohio, but whatever, I roll with it.

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I live near Corona Blvd, right by the old railroad tracks. Crikey, they even got this neat lil' mural on Eleventh Street – it's got more attitude than a stubborn mule! And you ain't seen nothin' like the vibe off Magnolia Avenue; it's a mix of vintage charm and modern spunk, kinda like that scene in "Zero Dark Thirty" when they gear up for mission impossible. "Keep your eyes open," ya know?

The Last of Us and Corona Create a Partnership With Some Bite