I’ve lived in this town for 16 years and somehow never made it down to Eastern Market. No real excuse. Just one of those places you assume will always be there, so you never quite get around to it.

Finally fixed that.

Went down with a camera and spent the day working through the graffiti and murals – paint layered on brick, names, symbols, half-finished ideas sitting right next to something deliberate and sharp. Some of it hits you immediately. Some of it takes a minute. Some of it probably wasn’t meant for you at all.

That’s the thing about street art – it’s not asking for permission, and it’s not trying to be polished. It’s just there. And if you pay attention, it tells you what matters to the people who move through that space every day.

I barely scratched the surface.

There’s a lot more down there worth seeing. I’ll be back.