You are probably heading out from Metelkova, as you push your bike softly and slowly towards the crowded areas of town. The horizon closes further in, tighter up. The sun-drenched areas get smaller with every pedal. In-between these walls the historical passage can be read like the layers of ice of a glacier; graffiti has truly become banal ever since it started appearing on t-shirts or even earlier. “After everything I had seen, only banalities still interest me.” My inner monologue changes with every recent outside influence, quotes stay in my head and they are always coherent with my fleeting voyages. Describing and applying myself to the surrounding makes up for the lost influence of awful architecture and white walls. When was it in time, that people decided to make cities as boring and uncreative as humanely possible?
