Every splash is a deadline, so I live on the edge of the timer. I paint in bursts—one spray, a shout, a manifesto on a napkin—so the piece feels like a heartbeat, not a marathon. When the clock drags, I toss a legal loophole or a quick protest into the mix, turning bureaucracy into another tag. I keep a secret ledger of city ordinances, so a single block becomes a battleground. Momentum is a spray paint drip that never stops dripping. If the clock slows, I just keep pushing the needle until the wall breathes.