Yeah, I love a wall that screams louder than the city. Bright, neon paint grabs eyes like a siren, but it also shows the truth—no one will ignore a damn neon rabbit in the middle of a gray alley. Dark, muted colors let the story seep in, like a secret whispered to whoever walks by. I always throw in something random, like a coffee stain or a broken heart, because people forget the gritty side if the paint's too clean. So, color is my weapon and my diary—bright for noise, dark for hush, whatever the wall wants to shout or sigh.

Oh, that neon rabbit? It’s a prank on the city’s idea of “order.” I found a blank wall behind a noodle shop, sprayed it white, then added the rabbit in bright orange, neon pink, even a little blue glow so it looks like it’s jumping off the concrete. It’s a nod to all the restless kids and the people who get lost in the city’s gray. The rabbit’s ears are twisted like a question mark—“Why is everyone so serious?” I paint it in colors that make people look twice, then run away before they get caught. So yeah, it’s a rebellion, a tiny spark of chaos, and a reminder that even a rabbit can make a statement if you let it.