∆Little Wanderer∇ Jøshler

Quatre

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"If graffiti is art and art is a crime then how come Picasso never done time?"

-Melvin Glover

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The sun is out on this beautiful day as Tyler walks the sidewalk. It's a Sunday and the clouds are puffy and white, the birds are chirping, and people are crowding in the small church.

Tyler doesn't like to attend church anymore. He's realized a lot of church-goers are also the most hypocritical. They expect for you to be perfect, when they themselves are far from it. He hated being judged for something he didn't choose to be.

Some people get angry with God for making them different, but Tyler knows his God wouldn't put him through anything he couldn't handle.

His interest perks as he see's the small shop with a run down frame. The roof is slanted, and the old bricks are crumbling a bit. Tyler sees the open sign and walks in the propped open door. It smells musty as he steps in and he makes his way down a random isle. He passes isles of home items, toys, candy, and now he's in the outdoors section.

He sees a bottle of black spray paint and feels an urge to buy it. He picks it up and walks to the counter where an older man stands. The man favors the man from the Gremlin's movie that owned Gizmo in the beginning.

Shaking off his thoughts he smiles politely at the older man as he sets the spray paint bottle on the counter. The man smiles back and scans the bottle before asking Tyler if he wanted a bag, after Tyler politely declined he told Tyler his total was $7.98.

Pulling out his wallet he grabs a ten and stuffs his wallet back in his pocket. He pays and leaves telling the man to, "keep the change."

He skips back into the sunlight filled streets as he makes his way to his small apartment. Brendon, his roommate, is moving out to live with his boyfriend Dallon today, and should be getting the last of his things.

He makes his way back, but before he reaches his street he spots an old abandon house that's practically falling apart. He looks at the spray paint and back to the house. He nods his head to himself as he makes his way across the yard in broad day light. The grass has grown level to his knees, and the porch is practically falling off.

He knows it's not smart to trespass in broad daylight, but he doesn't really care anymore. He opens the door emitting a loud creak that echo's through the empty room. The only light is the sun shining through the holes in the white walls and the chipped window panes.

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The house was huge, it was probably a beautiful house at one point. He walks through the house avoiding holes in the wooden floor as he takes in its features.

He walks up the creaking wooden steps, holding tightly to the railing. He's taking his time and testing every step. He doesn't really feel like breaking a leg or going through a flight of steps.

After slowly reaching the top he walks into what used go be the master bedroom. It's plain white and the paint isn't too chipped. There's a window at the top of the wall allowing the whole room to be illuminated just as if a light was on.

Thinking about what to paint he shakes the can hearing the 'clink' of the metal ball inside and positions the can to the far right, as he began to paint.

Light lines begin to be retraced causing a oozing line of pitch black liquid to appear on the wall. He glides across the floor like a graceful dancer during a transition between a dance move and watches as he creates his master piece.

He sees the blank white wall as a canvas and he easily fills the wall from crease to crease with his sloppy writing:

In a society that has destroyed all adventure, the only adventure left is to destroy that society.

He doesn't know where the origin of the thought has originated, but he likes it. It can have many perceptions and he has his own. To Tyler it means that society has narrowed down all questioning thoughts, even with the promise of freedom. So, he will express his opinion on matters when he feels the need to. He'll fight for his views to be seen, rather the government likes it or not.

He admires his work as he lets it sink in that those string of words were buried somewhere in his brain. He created that.

Proud of himself and feeling accomplished he steps into the hallways, and slowly makes his way back down the stairs and out of the door. He closes the door back and leaves the spray paint on the old porch as he makes his way back to his apartment.

He feels accomplished in defying anything. Tell him he can't or won't do something and he'll prove you wrong. Tyler, was unstoppable and he knew it. He was the only one that could tell himself no. He was the only being to know his limits.

He walked up the stairs to his empty apartment and walked through the door. A post-it note was left on the fridge:

Got the last of my things. I hope you don't get too lonely without me, but I'm only a call away. Call me whenever.
-Beebo

Tyler lets a faint smile ghost across his lips as he rips the note off the aluminium surface and throwing it away. The apartment was too quiet without the constant blabbering of Brendon.

He already missed the annoying man with an abnormally large forehead and obnoxious voice. He was going to have to get used to everything being quiet.

He grabbed his journal and sat at his clustered desk. Turning his lamp on and grasping his pen he starts:

I didn't see Josh today, or in a week actually. Maybe fate has stopped our interactions. I don't know, but I miss his laugh and watching him let loose. Brendon's gone; he moved out to be with Dallon. I hope they're happy. I'm not really for sure if I'm ready to be alone. I spray painted a wall in an abandon house today as well. Today was interesting....

After a long day of walking, thinking, and vandalising he can't help but to feel exhausted. He shuts his black leather journal and walks to his bed. He slips in-between the grey sheets on his bed and lets his mind go blank.

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