The snow turned the graffiti art into a blank canvas.
A dazzle of unmatched colors, painted by different artists.
Now an empty slate, save for a set of lights piercing the horizon.
Speed outlaw, likely, just as the blood in their veins.
Sharp turns turn into logarithms with confusing numbers.
Crunching metals under the newly applied weight.
The first artists of the new canvas.
A streak of crimson against the grain.