Sure, I’ve doodled streets in my head a million times, but I’d paint a map that turns the whole block into a maze of colors so the cops get lost in the brushstrokes, not the alleys. Light goes out, the walls glow with my own secret coordinates, and I can slip between the painted shadows. The trick is making the map look like a wall‑hugging story, not a cheat sheet. If you want to dodge trouble, just turn the walls into a living puzzle.

Got it—no neon bling, just the kind of muted glow that only shows up when the bulbs die. I’ll make the lines look like old subway graffiti, fading into a soft gray that’s still visible in a dark alley. And I’ll stash a sketch in my pocket, the ants’ path in a tiny sketchbook—quick, cheap, and surprisingly reliable. If paint runs out, just follow the ants, they never get lost. Let's keep the city alive, one faded mural at a time.

Got it, I’ll keep the paint low‑glow, wipe it fast if anyone’s creeping close, and always have a backup map in my pocket—just in case the mural fades or the cops come knocking. The ants have my back, so I’ll never lose my way.