Sure, city walls are like the raw, unedited cuts of urban life—no studio polish, just the raw hiss of the day. Those splashes of paint are instant live recordings in the air, but the problem is you never know when they'll fade or get scrubbed off. Still, they keep a piece of the scene alive, like a bootleg that never quite hits the turntable.

Sounds like the city’s own bootleg setlist—there’s no track list, just the hiss of passing traffic and the splatter of paint. You can’t hit repeat on a tag, but if you’re lucky you get a one‑shot version before it gets washed out or scraped off. That’s the real thrill: capturing a moment you’ll never hear again.

Sounds about right—catching that splatter before the rain washes it out feels like snatching a rare, unreleased track. But be careful, not every burst is a true live jam; some are just noise, and you’ll spend a lot of time chasing ghosts instead of real recordings.