General

They said we were nothing and showed not the smallest seed of love, and so our souls threw chaotic and crumpled rainbows onto the walls, onto the high vaulted ceilings of the subways and bridges that allowed the belching cars to flow over the waterways. The thing is, in that broken mess that we were, we could still feel our hearts, feel that rhythm that is inborn, and in our art, in our music, in the way our feet met the ground each day... we knew we'd win, it was simply a matter of how long it would take.

General

The quiet hiss of the can as I sprayed a black line across the wall was somewhat comforting. The shrill metal clacking as she shook it only emphasised the feeling and a smirk twisted her lips. Black mixed with blue and before her onyx eyes came alive visions of soaring eagles, and majestic horses that paled in comparison to one word. Freedom. She stood back, smiling proudly at her handiwork. Of course she would probably be the only one to admire it. She had sprayed the design on a crumbling wall in the back of a dinghy alley. Nevertheless, it was a sign, one she hoped someday, someone would find.

By yumcandycaramel, June 3, 2014.
General

It was just depressing. She leant on the metal railings, pale and unsmiling. So many times she had white-washed the wall of her little store, climbed the step ladder in faded overalls and given it two coats to cover the swastika's and profanities properly. As she watched the paintwork dim in the setting sun, a new idea occurred to her. Graffiti didn't have to be corrosive and threatening, it could be artistic and promote social ideas. If she could get a local graffiti artist to do something like that on her wall then maybe the vandals would leave it alone, respect it even. It was worth a try. Certainly better than supplying another blank canvass for the racists.

By james, October 31, 2014.