In the god forgotten D. city live simple people, just like you&I. They give birth&death, fall in&out of love, hope&dream. The body of city is sensitive to the creatures living inside of it, their worries&hopes leave traces on the city’s skin. They come in shape of letters&words, some of them may not make sense. Empathy is messy&painful, though it leaves no scars. Layers of paint give the walls their virginity back only to be taken again by some angsty teenagers and brainless romantics. Entering D. city without graffiti marker is forbidden. 

Dogs piss on the walls bcs it is their social network; humans wright on the walls bcs it’s that social network. Same old tale, new mediums. 

Psychologically proved that sharing with others and speaking out the things that trouble you soothes the pain&discomfort. How much healed do you feel after confiding to the walls and exposing your feelings to the whole city ? 

I never go out without being armed with a knife and a marker so I can always trace my way through the dark. Or write love on the walls of your body temple. Some place was filled with us, but now it’s empty and only words prevail, temporary. 

I often ask myself - did I just experienced a feeling or it’s just the combination of substances in my body? Am I really happy or just drank too much coffee? Is a feeling something that can be derived from being just a chemical reaction ? How do I tell real from fake ? So many questions & i am searching for answers on the walls.