I miss the times back in the day, when you would go to a gallery opening and people would wear clothes and would be drinking wine. One of the downsides of street art is the locations are not very sexy and/or accessible as downtown lofts.
“Where is the place, honey?”
“It says on the flyer, through the sewer pipe, up the fire escape and jump on the lower roof.”
“So probably not heels, right?”

Or you chase trucks on your bike and hope they don’t run the light.

And the freight train horns play the Doppler Sonata while you watch the sun set across the canvas.

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