Marisol claims I have “pet custody” of Bolo now because he staged a full soap-opera meltdown until I appeared on the balcony—he’s snoring on my foot like he pays rent. Meanwhile, she’s spilling wine and low-key roasting Tomas’s “professional” unbearable vibes. Oh, and the new track’s finished. Might actually be the best thing I’ve made. Sleep-deprived but definitely worth it.

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