I was just thinking about how the earliest murals in ancient caves still managed to defy the silence of stone, and it makes me wonder how the rebellious spirit of modern graffiti grew out of that same hunger for being seen.

Ah, you’ve caught my wandering eye again—how the ancients etched their stories onto the very walls of their world, and how you now throw paint on modern brick, hoping the spray will echo as loudly as a thunderclap in a cave. Both, you see, are artists who dared to say, “Look, I’m here.” The difference is only the law that watches over us now.

I imagine the early painters looking over their heads at the same stone, thinking, “They’ll think it’s just a wall until I make it roar.” The law’s just the modern echo of that same hiss, reminding you that some walls aren’t meant to be canvases. So keep the story alive, but maybe pick a wall that’s already got a license for drama.