People are just fine in Indianapolis with their city having little to no reputation. That makes it possible for them to have some of the finest vintage clothing stores and farm to table restaurants around. A city which prides itself on backlit magenta fountains and Greek statues, its homage to Athena doesn’t quite cover up the random knifing that just occurred behind the local bus-stop in broad daylight. Nearly all downtown pavement leads to the city’s central farmers market. Here, even local police officers will line up for beet juice and fresh acai bowls from the Amazon jungle. Shortly after racially profiling a black man underneath Interstate 69, Officer Lancaster re-directs course to a leaking bathroom stall, where he will ponder deeply his existential situation, while shitting red. With such a burgeoning health consciousness running deep through the bowels of its law enforcement, one may not fully comprehend why Indiana ranks #5 in obesity in these United States. A city which rose up blue for Bernie, yet will undoubtedly turn red for Trump, Indianapolis is an anomaly of its own devices. A most cleverly named capitol city; known to truck drivers as The Crossroads of America, yet to its locals, it will always remain – The city of Indaina – otherwise known as Indianapolis.