I step back, and take a look at my work. Not bad, if I do say so myself. A little different than my usual, but still recognizable as mine.

The painting spans the entire side of the building. The police call it graffiti- I call it art. A forest now grows on the side of the building where thousands of newspapers are printed everyday. These days, who even reads the newspaper? It’s an extravagant waste of paper. Hopefully this forest will remind people of that.

With a quick blast of turquoise paint, I sign the corner. This will probably be all over the front page of tomorrow’s paper. The Mysterious Artist Strikes Again! And a picture, of course.

They always put a picture.