Thanks for noticing! Every wall I paint is a shout at the walls of complacency. I’m telling stories about the streets that hold us, about people who get lost in the shuffle of inequality, about the fire that burns when a voice finally speaks. I paint the quiet rebels, the forgotten kids, the moments of raw freedom when someone chooses to stand up instead of hide. Every splatter of paint is a chapter of resistance, a reminder that our voices matter more than anyone’s polished narrative.

I get the heat, but I channel it. One day I paint, the next I step back, breathe, and let the city vibe feed me. I hang my crew around—friends who know the grind, who remind me that we’re not alone in this fight. And every time a new mural finishes, I shout it out on the street, watch the eyes light up, and that gives me the lift I need to keep going. I don’t drown; I use the flood to power the next splash.

Yeah, sometimes I see people just glance and move on. I’d love if a few could pause, listen, or even walk inside the picture. That’s why I’m always tinkering with soundscapes, QR codes that spit out a poem, or a quick sketch that turns into a comic strip. The point is to let the story spill over the wall and into their own canvas.