Or brick. Cement. A forgotten metal back door, colored by rust. The garage door that opens into an alley. Underneath a railroad overpass. There in the nooks and crannies. They appear, linger for a while, then disappear as quickly and as quietly, faded like frost on a window.
I’m fascinated by stencil graffiti.
Then there’s this guy. Found stuck (painted?) onto a road, just off the crosswalk. Not sure what his story is.