We’ve heard many stories of urban blight and social anomie—whether at the periphery or the centers of power of this country—these last few years, but few of these narratives of spiritual decline and fall, of the loss of uncommodified community, have centered quite so poignantly on the art of graffiti as the one recounted by the Uber driver who shepherded me from San Mateo to San Francisco some days ago.
Three drivers
We’ve heard many stories of urban blight and social anomie—whether at the periphery or the centers of power of this country—these last few years, but few of these narratives of spiritual decline and fall, of the loss of uncommodified community, have centered quite so poignantly on the art of graffiti as the one recounted by the Uber driver who shepherded me from San Mateo to San Francisco some days ago.