He looked at the brick wall. Cans of black and red spray paint in his hands. The young man shook them like a bartender shakes martinis. Took the caps off and began his work.

With the black paint, he wrote a sentence on the rust colored bricks. The sentence read, Take back the power.  He looked at it; studied the structure. And began diagramming.

The kid used the red paint to make lines over and under words. Slants were used. The complete sentence  broken down for all to see. He knew then what his mission was; tag every brick wall in Queens with diagrammed sentences. This was his calling.

It was his grandmother who taught him how to diagram.  The two would sit at the kitchen table for an hour each day, working on various sentences; short sentences, and long statements as well. This time together was cherished by both.

Each day, as he diagrammed on buildings, public housing, subway trains, and sidewalks, the young man thought of his grandmother. The work was a reminder of her love. And with each word, every mark, he felt her presence.