A few months ago I left to Paris and quit my job as a Software Engineer; yes, in that order. I left drastically and suddenly because I felt something had to be done.

Despite my comfortable position, or because of it, there was an incredible emptiness that was eating me away inside; something that said that I wasn’t really standing up for anything, or being true to myself.

That Thursday morning I packed up my bag and headed to the airport, not really sure why, but hoping that – somehow – I would escape the void and find inspiration in that city.

I spent most of my time there looking at art. I saw art in museums and galleries, and in old pubs. I saw art in the city itself: in her buildings, her roads, her bridges, her people. But the art that impacted me the most was throughout the city; scribbled, painted, pasted on her walls in unassuming alleyways.

Graffiti. The city wore these impressions like tattoos – each one an important commentary by those who inhabit her. I had finally found inspiration.

See the result here.

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