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Descriptive Essay About Graffiti

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Packing my backpack with my camera and my charger, Kayla and I rush out of the house with excitement. We were driving to Philadelphia to see Graffiti Pier, a place where graffiti artists go to do their artwork. After hearing many good things about it from my cousin who lives nearby, we just had to go!

Kayla and I sat in the back together, windows down and the cool air blowing against our sun-kissed faces. We drive for almost a half an hour, but time flew by as we blasted our favorite songs from the car speakers. Soon enough we arrived at our destination. We exit the car, camera dangling from my neck and my iced coffee in hand. Together, we leisurely walk along the muddy pathway, taking in our surroundings. It didn’t seem like much, not at first. Empty spray paint cans and old cigarettes scattered the ground.There were tall cement walls, but we weren’t able to see the color of the cement anymore. There was so much artwork, it covered every inch of the walls. Kayla and I walked in between the pillars and the walls, admiring all of the vivid colors.

As we continued to walk around, we saw an artist doing a very colorful and extravagant piece. Shades of blue and green covered the wall spelling out “Eloper” in large letters. Bright oranges, yellows, and greens outlined the lettering. We sat back and observed the artist do his work. His strokes appeared almost effortless and his concentration was unbreakable. I turn on my camera, taking pictures from various angles and positions. Satisfied with the photos I’ve taken, we walk over to a bench in front of the river nearby. We look out at the water and listen to music until it starts to get dark.

We gather our things and put it into my black backpack. I sling it over my shoulder and pull Kayla along with me as we head to the car. Other people were leaving too. Before we leave, though, my mom tells us that she wanted to show us something. She takes us to a short wall, not much on it. My mom started to tell us stories about Steven, a close friend of my mother from when she was younger. He was a graffiti artist, but he had passed a few weeks ago due to cancer. On the wall was a piece that said “Let” on it, which was Steven’s graffiti name. She looked at it with a sad

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