roots.

Hop started as a coffee shop in Sheffield. It was small, a bit chaotic, the door never quite shut. And it meant a lot to me. On our last day, I handed the keys over to an eager seven year old. I stood in the doorway one last time and felt the metal lock that I wrestled with every day for five years. I walked away happy, and free-ish.

After that, I tried to start something new. Different name. Different concept. Different version of myself I could send into the world and feel grown. I did not succeed.

None of the new names fit.

I finally let myself replay our last day as a coffee shop in my head. My eyes opened. I never locked the door.

So Hop is this now.

An online studio. A collection of projects. Writing. Experiments. Collaborations.

It is different. So am I. You probably are too. But our roots are the same. I am still chatting with my people, I am still over-caffeinated and I am still slinging silly little treats. Just a different flavour.

Things evolve. People evolve.
You don’t have to change your name every fucking time.

Hop continues.
And so do I.
Welcome back, motherfuckers.

names are the prisons of things

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Freddy Nietz

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names are the prisons of things | Freddy Nietz |