A wind blew from a southerly direction that day. We got out of the car on Indiana and this was sitting there, moving a bit in the marine breeze. I don’t know… it just says so much about the break-up of cities, maybe the process of “uneven development” that the Harvey school talks about. Was the “fuck my life” a scribble by someone who got into an accident…or someone having a close encounter with gentrification? Is it someone who saw the magnificent artistic potential in all this? I like to believe that there is an artist out there who is tagging stuff “fuck my life,” taking the detritus and making it the very real part of the landscape that it is, and thus helping people read the scene in all its tortured reality. Someone else saw it in Prague.