Page One

Graffitirazzi – A Hole-in-the-Wall on Haste

By Gar Smith
Friday March 15, 2013 - 04:13:00 PM
Bookmark and Share
<b>The size of a small prison cell, the enclosed space expands upwards, rising two stories. A clean-looking folding mattress stands packed along the back wall. Peeling it away reveals walls scrawled with mystic notes and graphic shibboleths.
Gar Smith
The size of a small prison cell, the enclosed space expands upwards, rising two stories. A clean-looking folding mattress stands packed along the back wall. Peeling it away reveals walls scrawled with mystic notes and graphic shibboleths.
Gar Smith
Gar Smith
Gar Smith
It only took a moment to realize this ad hoc art gallery was not a temple of hygiene. The stench of unmopped urine became overwhelming and my clothes carried the scent long after I left. I briefly considered burning my shoes. But before leaving, I spotted a single, legible message: the only one that required no decoding. Nestled in the swirl of previous markings, someone had written a personal message.
Gar Smith
It only took a moment to realize this ad hoc art gallery was not a temple of hygiene. The stench of unmopped urine became overwhelming and my clothes carried the scent long after I left. I briefly considered burning my shoes. But before leaving, I spotted a single, legible message: the only one that required no decoding. Nestled in the swirl of previous markings, someone had written a personal message.
Peering closer, it came into focus. It was a love note (in this, of all places) to someone named Eva who was some stranger's touchstone for beauty – something to reverence in this "whole wide world" of forests, deserts, oceans, mountains and desperate, downtown spend-a-night caves. Here's hoping that better days — and nights — await Eva and her anonymous beau.
Gar Smith
Peering closer, it came into focus. It was a love note (in this, of all places) to someone named Eva who was some stranger's touchstone for beauty – something to reverence in this "whole wide world" of forests, deserts, oceans, mountains and desperate, downtown spend-a-night caves. Here's hoping that better days — and nights — await Eva and her anonymous beau.
Gar Smith

Sometimes an open doorway leads to someone's last-ditch crash-pad. Walking down Haste Street, you may have passed one such hole-in-the-wall hideaway. It might go totally unnoticed, if it weren't for the peek-a-boo graffiti. Appropriately, this no-money-down retreat is located in the same building that houses a Dollar Store.