Graffiti has always fascinated me. At train crossings, waiting for endless boxcars to pass, I used to see the most beautiful creations of art. There’s a lot of time to think while sitting in the car. I wondered about the artists who were skilled enough to paint such amazing collages on rusty metal, old metal, new metal, and what sort of lives they led. I could imagine them painting in the dark by flashlight, since obviously this would not knowingly be allowed in daylight. It took me to another world. And then the train ended with the reds, blues, and neon colors gone in a blur.
Recently, on my wandering and hiking in the mountains, I came upon a one lane tunnel in South Carolina. Mesmerized, I saw graffiti in a backwoods town where time moves slow and slower. Maybe the artists were young, old, or just wandering like I was. They could have thought they had all the time in the world to create, be young, be old, live forever. As the quote goes: “In the midst of life we are living; in the midst of life we are dying.” It’s the in-between that we live. Nevertheless, graffiti is a salvation to some and its electric colors splash light into a confusing world.
series of dreams II 
T/Y for reading.
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It is fascinating to think about who these artists might be and how did they come to love to draw and paint. Especially watching trains fly by one thinks of an cross country art show. I wonder if the artists dream of where their paintings have gone?
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