|Picture taken in Venice, Italy, where buildings are marked by the ancient and the only yesterday.|
It must be addressed, I am fascinated by graffiti.
I am fascinated by people's need to put their mark on the world, and the thought that the only way to do it is to cover up someone else's mark. True, I know your name, the name you so boldly scribbled on the inside walls of the steps to the top of Florence's Duomo and bathroom stalls, and I have no idea what the names of each builder who made those stairs were. But the stairs are charged admission for and no one is coming to see your name.
Not to say that I don't enjoy tree carved proclamations of love and the mixtapes of nicknames written in bunches in all the normal places, and the not so normal places, and that I don't ache to leave my mark on the world.
But I would rather leave a mark on people. And I would rather leave pieces of my soul. And though I like my name, other people have the same exact one.