Graffiti is like a secret code written in spray cans, turning blank walls into a dialogue that nobody can ignore. It’s not just art; it’s a signal, a form of protest that says, “we’re here, we’re watching.” The city’s ordinary signs get an extra layer of meaning, and the act of splashing a wall becomes a silent shout against the invisible rulers. It’s rebellion, yes, but it’s also a language of its own, speaking through color and shape where words might be censored.