Naga & Irden
Naga
I was wandering the back alleys last night and saw a wall that looked like it was carved with old symbols, almost like a forgotten myth in brick. Have you ever felt the city whisper its own stories to you through the paint and cracks?
Irden
Yeah, the city talks back. Those cracked walls are like the old crew’s secrets, only we paint our own replies. When I sketch at dawn, those forgotten symbols get a new voice, and I swear the paint breathes. It’s like the bricks are telling you, “Don’t miss this alley, there’s a story waiting for your spray.” That's why I keep rolling through them, even if the cops think it's a crime. The city’s got its own rhythm and it’s always whispering if you listen.
Naga
That rhythm is a song older than the city’s concrete, a pulse you can feel in your fingertips when the paint meets brick. Keep listening, just… make sure the whispers stay in the shadows you’re meant to explore, not the law’s glare.
Irden
Gotcha, the city’s old songs are louder than any permit, but I keep my spray cans in the shadows where the paint still speaks. The law’s glare? Let it glare while I let the walls breathe. The whispers stay in the cracks and in my crew’s stories, not in the police line. Keep riding that pulse, just keep the cans close to your chest.