Crouching Gangster, Flowering Quince

Ain't got nothin', won't be nothin'.

That's the motto that most of the boys from the east side of Brooklyn went by. Some of them were thieves, drug dealers, murderers, or even rapists. They were an array of criminals, but all for one reason - to get by. Then there were the others, the ones who were athletes or writers or engineers, talented people who actually had a ticket out of the hood.

Then there were people in the middle who got along with everybody but never really chose one side. People like Max.

When you float along in the river that is the ghetto, you may think you're unbothered, but there is always something waiting. There will always be a stick in the water, and for Max, it all came at the wrong time. Most of his friends were on the criminal side, but he was just about to get his one-way departure ticket before things came crashing down. There were only two possibilities: either he got stuck in the hood forever, or he lost his life.

After living here for so long, you realize that those two are one and the same.