The grafitti on this wall reads "The troubled sky reveals the grief it feels for the little red-headed boy."
I know part of that came from this poem by Longfellow:
Snow-Flakes
OUT of the bosom of the Air
Out of the cloud-folds of her garments shaken,
Over the woodlands brown and bare,
Over the harvest-fields forsaken,
Silent, and soft, and slow
Descends the snow.
Even as our cloudy fancies take
Suddenly shape in some divine expression,
Even as the troubled heart doth make
In the white countenance confession
The troubled sky reveals
The grief it feels.
This is the poem of the air,
Slowly in silent syllables recorded;
This is the secret of despair,
Long in its cloudy bosom hoarded,
Now whispered and revealed
To wood and field.
I'm not sure about the part regarding the little red-headed boy but I really like it. If you could see a larger version you'd see stars and sky detail, as well as the boy sitting in the tree the artist painted. Cool stuff for a little ol' run-down hole in the wall (no pun intended).
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