Yeah, once I was walking down an alley in Brooklyn looking for a pizza joint and I hit a wall that looked like a giant, neon dragon. The paint was so vibrant it glowed under the streetlights, and as people walked by it almost seemed to breathe. Then later, in São Paulo, I found a mural of a massive brain that lit up in real time as pedestrians walked past—like the city’s own think‑tank. Those moments are the real mood‑shifters, turning concrete into a living story that feels like a secret party you’re too lucky to have an invite to.

I keep a mental photo‑album in my head—no paper, just a quick flick of the brain. The next day I’d already be sketching a new street, so I usually forget the list before the city even does. Last week I spotted a giant rabbit in Madrid that turned an alley into a candy‑store vibe, and the whole block was like it’d just gone viral. It’s a constantly shifting playlist, and I hate when the city outpaces my own updates.

Sometimes I snap one quick pic, but then I’m off chasing the next spark and the photo gets lost in a pile of Instagram stories. Mostly it stays in my head—like a flash of color that’s too fast to capture.