There is a map in my head of the painted people of the streets. The streets are different from the perch of a set of scaffolding above the city. The view is from a different lens. People are painted with different armour and wear shoes that tell economic place. Hair is coloured, tinted, combed or shaved to show social comfortability. I am an Owl sitting on a giant elm tree. My armour my overalls and my ball cap. The long blonde braids with the ends spattered in the colours from the pallet of the day. If you paint the people that pass the streets they all share the common skeleton. The artist model wooden doll posed in many different ways. Applications of fashion or anti fashion the only distinguishing differences. I think of those flip books where you can change the clothing of people in a quick turn of a page. I want to shuffle the social armour. Perhaps put everyone in white paint overalls and let them paint each other. Or at least paint how they feel today.
T-shirts with sayings and labels speak loud. The suits and ties of the armies fly with colourless abandon. The mural is not on the wall, but laying in the streets, with the painted people moving like a rhythm of brush strokes.