I decided to walk to Steven and Robin's house from Ashby BART yesterday afternoon. It was awkward carrying my bags that far, but I felt the need to be outside and realized that I could commemorate my first semester at UC Berkeley -- I didn't start to take Prince until I'd become more used to the decidedly mixed neighborhood -- by walking down Ashby to Sacramento. This meant that I got to walk by Malcom X School -- a public elementary -- where I used to play basketball during those halcyon days in the fall of 1987. I stopped to take a photo of the playground, then turned to look at the long and impressive public art on the wall across the street. It's an anti-war mural with references to Picasso, Goya, Bosch, Sue Coe and other artists famed for their vivid depictions of suffering and despair. I crossed to get a closer look, noticing the potential for allegory in this view:I'm the least anarchic person in my household. But there's something about this shot that stirs a mixture of rage and melancholy in my soul. In a sense, every sign casts a shadow on our freedom.