I float across a canopy of leftover old forest that pretends to shade streetwise vibes. Here, high above urban roofs while scaling walls, I stride with my brush and bucket; dripping paint to create. Searching for empty spaces among disguised greed, I need to add my chronicle of the forgotten. You will curate my museum quality murals and frescos for Art Walks and advertise these anonymous contributions to collective consciousness in tourist magazines. There’s money to be made, but not by me.
