I returned to the laneway on my own the next day with a backpack full of materials. I looked at my three grandmothers all in a row on repeat. Three words come to me: Repeat After Me. I reached into my backpack and found my pencil case. I pulled out a felt-tip pen and I signed the last portrait 'Repeat After Me'.
I took a spray can out of my backpack. It felt like a foreign object in my hand – it'd been so long since I held one. I shook the can like I was shaking up courage. I popped the lid off, letting it drop to the ground beside my backpack. The can felt cold in my hand. I stepped across the laneway to a red-brick wall, looking around to double check I was alone. I shook the can again and I began to spray, slowly at first, but smooth and with control. I created three stick figures together in a group, like the little people I used to paint around Fitzroy. And then I sprayed another figure off to the side. Above the group of three I wrote 'FAMIL' and above the lone figure I sprayed 'Y'.
I put the cap back on the can and placed it in my backpack. I retrieved a bottle of ink and a paintbrush, returning to my original medium. I crouched by one of the exit doors. There was a sign saying 'Warning: Fire safety door. Do not obstruct.' The white paint on the door had yellowed and cracked. I painted a garbage picker kid playing with a huntsman spider, as he had lived in my imagination ever since Pigmentation told me about him. He had large curious eyes, short hair and a proud smile. He sat cross-legged, holding his cupped hand up for us to see his spider friend.
I stood up and shook my legs out. I'd been so focused on my work of art, I hadn't noticed the cramp sneaking up my muscles. I stretched my back out too, before bending down to sign 'Repeat After Me' below the little boy. I stepped off the gutter into the middle of the laneway, admiring the works I'd created in this newfound wonderland I'd decided to name Overlooked Lane.