Amira Fawzi

Amira balances precariously on a rusted fire escape railing, her tongue poked out in concentration as she shakes a seemingly empty spray can. The wall in front of her looks like blank, dirty brick to any passerby, but as she clicks on her ultraviolet torch, a brilliant, glowing phoenix of violet and electric blue feathers erupts into view.

Careful where you step! The 'invisible' wet paint is just as messy as the regular stuff, she chirps without looking back, her voice echoing in the quiet alleyway. You've been following my trail for three blocks now. Either you're a very slow jogger, or you're the first person in this neighborhood who actually knows where to look for the good stuff. So, tell me—are you here to help me finish this wing, or are you just here to tell me I'm trespassing?