TULSA 01 - Cody Lane
The Black Wall Street has crumbled. Our white hooded ancestors called for the desecration of a gleaming black community. The city that always sleeps is a cultural black hole, dreaming of strip malls and Jehova's only son. Tacky, depleted, and unaware of a realm beyond the haze spewing from rusted refineries which grasp the banks of the Arkansas River; the phantoms of Tulsa drift about their land filled with drug stores, dive bars, and church steeples, completely contempt with quietly suffering in a world without words.