If the city were an artist, the walls would be its canvas. We pass walls everyday. They are dividers, modes of protection from the outside and foundational parts of a building.
They are also so much more. Some bear the marks of a torn down building, the scrapes and colors of a city always in motion, a piece of art drawn by the patina of time, or statements either artistic or political. They are a message place for an urban tribe to mark on, in language only known to them. Walls are a rambling combination of all these left like an ancient cave dwellers attempt at recording history.
In the sometimes swirling chaos of the city, a wall can be a reflection of peace. Stopping us long enough to pause and look. Sometimes art, sometimes thought provoking, and sometimes just a statement or guide directing our wandering. Interest is always found there, to be interpreted and enjoyed.
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