Yeah, the same streets that make your heart race also bleed onto my canvas. The rhythm of traffic lights and the hiss of brakes feel like a bass line that I can paint in neon. When I’m on a corner, I hear the city’s heartbeat, and I just let the brush do the talking. So, driver or painter, we’re both just trying to catch that beat before it blurs away.

Thanks, but the city’s pulse is more like a subway tunnel—no pause, just relentless. I keep my eyes peeled and my brush ready to jump on the next beat before it blurs away.