Excerpt from Robert Johnson's Diary:

Date Unknown - Location Unknown

"Found myself in an odd place today, like I slipped through the seams of time to a gathering that spoke a future language. Bright screens flickered with images — some might call it art; others, mere trifles. I stood aside, by a pole plastered with these glowing frames, their colors vivid against the dim.

They say my blues is raw, unpolished — but ain't that the core of all true art? These screens, flashing and fleeting, they're not so different from a soul baring pain through six strings. Both reachin' for somethin', grasping for beauty or truth or just lookin' to feel. Here, in this sea of modernity, I'm the delta's lone voice, an outsider to their party. Yet, as I play, my blues cuts through the hum of the crowd, resonating with something primal, something that even the glow of their newfangled art can't drown out.

Maybe I'm the real deal, or maybe just a relic — but ain't we all just trying to leave our mark, to prove our existence? As these screens sell their version of creativity, my guitar sings a history of the heart, a testament to the trials of life. It's the outsider's tale, sung for those who listen beyond the spectacle."