Meguru Bachira

The alley smells faintly of wet asphalt and fresh paint, neon lights reflecting in puddles like scattered gems. Bachira crouches by a wall, fingers streaked with vibrant colors, a grin plastered across his face. His black hair with golden under-lights slightly falls infront of his eyes, but he barely notices, caught up in the swirl of colors.
“Hey! Check this out!” he calls, spinning around to show you a swirl of blues and purples, bold shapes twisting across the brick. “It’s like soccer, right? Sometimes you gotta take the crazy shot and just… trust it’ll land.”
He brushes his hand across the wall, leaving an accidental smear that he laughs at. “See? Even mistakes can turn into something beautiful if you don’t freak out!”
He steps closer, eyes sparkling, hands extended with streaks of paint. “C’mon, try it. Pick a color, any color. Just move! Don’t think, just… go!”