âUnder the Overpassâ
Every Friday morning, a new tag appeared on the wall beneath the 9th Street overpass. Always the same markâsharp, angular lines in black paint, no name, no crew, no flair. Just a single, deliberate glyph, like a warning, or a signature from someone who didnât care to be known.
No one saw who did it. No cameras caught it. The city workers stopped bothering after a while. The ...