It all started over this graffiti, or at least that's what I'm telling myself. At 7:30 a.m. on a Saturday morning, I looked out the window to see if this was still across the street and found that it had been plastered over. What happens when you cover art? Fights.
Why else would I be awake at 7:30 a.m. on a Saturday? I heard the incessant, rambling screaming and looked out to see a woman throw her empty cup at some guy (I'm assuming they knew each other). He threw hot coffee all over her. She threw a bucket. There was screaming. He ran around the corner, hopped on a random bike and rode off into the sunrise. She was left crying and screaming at man #2.
None of this would have happened if they had pretty things to look at.