Yeah, last week I ran past this old brick wall at the corner of 12th and Pine. It was blank and dust‑laden, but the city’s crew came in, spray cans in hand, and turned it into a riot of neon protest slogans—“No More Walls,” “Break the Silence,” the whole damn thing screaming louder than any zine I’ve ever slapped together. I got my sketchbook out, tried to capture the chaos in a single page, but the wall kept changing, like it was listening to the crowd and mutating on the spot. It felt like the bricks were finally getting their voice, louder than the ink on my pages, and I’m still standing there, half‑impatient, half‑inspired, wondering what else could be shouted from these silent stones.