DJ’s work of art on the wall was simply a mess as it is just turning their white painted wall into a dirty wall filled with inane graffiti. There was a sense of indepedence and satisfaction on the part of DJ’s hands scribbling back and forth on the walls with his tiny cut crayons of various colors. The artwork looks rubbish at first, but there’s a shrewdness manifested in each harmonious stroke. There’s a hidden matrix if you read between the lines. For DJ, it is still an unfinished art work. More and more unpredicted strokes will soon appear, this is just the inception of something that he has been surmising, something that he has been dreaming.
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