The Florida man walks Atlantic Avenue in a humble striving for blossoms of chestnut, dirty blonde, or just lovely black. The Florida spirit radiates, emanates, and burns. It is the spirit in a soft velvety dress, a passing second in a life going somewhere else. The Florida man discovers a Love Story to light his way. He is resplendent in the joy of Juliet's glory.

The Florida is a place where Northerners flee the cold, the wind, and the Fall in their own act of desperate promise. The Florida is South Beach with its chic, its glare, and its gory glamour of viscous signs, signs of grace, signs of pace. It is picking avocadoes with dad in the woods or cleaning the sand out of the car after a day at the beach with mom.

The man becomes boy remembering the shiner on his 12 year-old face and thinking about "Houses of the Holy" as he dressed for Catholic School with dread. The boy becomes joy suiting up for a game and chewing wads of fresh double bubble in the afternoon sun with mom and dad in the stands.

The man is now 41 as he gestates, mutates, excretes, secretes, and chews up aesthetes of his academic days as if they were baseball gum in the boca of a little leaguer. He is now an entrepreneur, lover, painter, photographer, and comedian on the way to God knows where. It is the and it is thus.
-Jorge Griego