This could get real sad like, but let's keep the actual subject matter light for this time around, friends.

It's inspired by something that really, just mattered mostly to me.

It was a mural on the corner of Queen Street and Great Western Highway in St Marys.

I knew a real estate was moving in, but for some reason naively assumed that the actual brick wall corner would still be "ours" (I say ours as I organized to get it painted there to brighten up the street, but it was also sort of our way to be like, hey "we are here, and look how fun and colorful and awesome we are and yes you should totally want to hang out with us!")

I was at said intersection and noticed painters prepping. I instantly felt my morning brown (coffee and milo, yes, I am a child, and yes, you are welcome) want to come back up.

The first three stages of what I now realize was grief happened within 20 minutes.

"They aren't prepping to paint over the mural; no one would ever do that"

"They ...