speak softly but carry a big can of paint

a few years ago I tried myself to dodgy graffiti and tags at the moment of life where you think you need to rebel there's not much message beyond this fact. in hidden caves and forgotten grottos where secret parties were organised you can still find some traces of these educational times-crappy b-boys with caps and hooded jackets big rings and nasty smiles-clumsy and dripping lines of spray paint in montrouge and malakoff, peripheral near suburbia, unelegant tags spelling sixen, isis, perform and zelda may still be fading away... that was 1989/90
maybe the lack of conviction stopped it all and anyway they were ugly.