The artist is the Monk of Commodity. I reinvent God. I reinvent love. I reinvent my face. I reinvent pain. I see behind every veil. I taste better than Coca-Cola, I am happier than money, more addictive than a sale, thinner than cocaine. The city swallows me. It grinds me into original Zen. It excretes me. I am home. My address is the Cross of Self-Reinvention.