One thing that gave me pause,
when searching through the dusty tomes of archaeology,
was the number of places in the world
littered with the remnants of ancient graffiti.
Small letters, symbols, crude drawings – using all definition of the word “crude”…
Voices from insignificant humans whose names will never be known,
that survive their originator’s all too brief existence.
What would they have thought, if they knew that their scrawl
would survive the test of time and here
centuries later, cause a chuckle at a lewd joke made or
raise an eyebrow at an injustice called out.
Would Decimus, presumably the 10th son of someone, have thought better
of depicting the local authority with asses ears, or
would he have embellished even more?
Is graffiti the true “universal” language of letters and pictographs
that transcend the age they are invented in, and speak
to generations far into the future?
A part of me hopes so… if only that those who have such tiny voices now
can be heard…