Deep in the Lorimer–Metropolitan station, the tile reads: Your Story. That phrase stayed with me. It felt like an invitation. We all carry something worth telling, even if it’s messy, fractured, half-forgotten. Brooklyn holds those stories in its bones. This piece pulls at that phrase. The glitch unravels it—bends it, distorts it, lets it stutter like memory. What remains is a reflection: stories don’t stand still. They move. They shift. They break open and rebuild. Glitch Your Story is a reminder that the fragments matter. Your voice matters. Your lived experience—raw, distorted, beautiful—is a part of the collective. The story isn’t over. It’s begining.