Jame (Crema PJ) sui suoi treni della linea Nord, 1999. Jame (Crema PJ) on his North Line trains, 1999. |
sabato 25 agosto 2012
North Line Playground
Etichette:
crema,
graffiti,
metro,
metropolitana,
nord,
old school,
roma,
rome
Cinque Caffè - Five Coffees
Il deposito di Anagnina, sulla destra s'intravede la casetta. 1995 |
Mentre stavamo li a controllare a ridosso della rete, una macchina imboccò la stradina, io e Stand andammo a nasconderci dietro al rimorchio di un camion, ognuno dietro una ruota, e Giaime si allontanò una decina di metri dietro di noi nei campi, dietro delle balle di fieno.
La macchina si fermò accanto al rimorchio e si aprirono gli sportelli, uscirono quattro coatti di zona che cominciarono a parlare. Noi due stavamo uno di fronte all'altro a tre metri di distanza e cercavamo di capire cosa erano venuti a fare li; ci abbassammo sotto al rimorchio per guardare verso di loro, uno dei quattro entrò in macchina e capimmo subito tutto.
La mignotta che si erano portati lì se la fecero a turno tutti e quattro, quando uno finiva usciva e dava il cinque all'altro che entrava. Furono scopate veloci e sentivamo i commenti che facevano a turno quando uscivano. Noi ci guardavamo e la situazione era quella che si crea a scuola in classe quando vuoi ridere ma non puoi, la mano sulla bocca per non farci sentire, a due metri dalla loro macchina . Fù uno sforzo sovrumano non ridere.
Finirono e imboccarono di nuovo il viale per andarsene, Giaime uscì dai cespugli, non aveva capito nulla. Gli raccontammo tutto e ci fu lo sfogo di risate.
Scavalcata la rete, dipingemmo senza altri intoppi.
Quindici anni dopo, per noi era un periodo di pulizia in metro B, girava tanta merda che non ci piaceva. Andavamo spesso ad un backjump a coprire chi non volevamo veder girare. In due mesi abbiamo cambiato il volto a quei vagoni, 5-6 minuti a disposizione al giorno, ed una marea di tag e throwup.
Koma, Jon, Ver NSA e Syla Linea B, 2007 |
PP (Poo NSA) GG (Gast) throwups. Linea B, 2007. |
Throwup Ver e Myk 106 sul lato del vagone. Sul frontalino, "O" di O'Clock 156 da Parigi, "M" di Myk 106, e "G" di Gast. Linea B, 2007. |
Il tipo rimase chinato una trentina di secondi per capire se ne aveva ancora, poi un paio di scuregge e alzandosi senza pulirsi il culo se ne andò.
Di solito eravamo noi a cacare li, caffè, sigaretta, arrivi e ti viene automatico.
Quel giorno dopo aver dipinto ci fu una fuga pazzesca, le guardie ci tesero un agguato. Mezz'ora dopo andammo a fare colazione in un bar della zona e dentro trovammo le guardie che ci avevano inseguito. Ordinai i caffè.
Koma
English:
Five Coffees
If my memory doesn't fail me it was the fall of 1993. I was driving my Honda ZX with Giaime(R.I.P.) behind me, and Stand was driving his Piaggio Sì alone. We were heading for the Anagnina depot. Usually we parked under the buildings about 500 meters from the fence of the yard and walked down the little dirt road towards the depot, with pasture land on both sides and horses grazing, right where the new part of the yard is now. It was the first period that we had been hitting the metro in Anagnina, so we always spent some time checking the trains to spot security. There was this little house on the right of the fence we used to climb on top of to gain a better view of the area. We tried spotting the guard to understand which direction he might have come from. We still had little experience. Thinking back, during that period it was possible to paint with relative calm, but we didn't realize it back then and every time we climbed over the fence we had no idea what to expect, as we had already heard shots fired a few times.
Anagnina depot. On the right you can see the corner of the little house, 1995. |
One time, while we were there checking near the fence, a car came down the dirt road, so Stand and I hid behind a trailer truck, each behind a tire, and Giaime hid further down in the farmer's fields behind a hay-stack. The car stopped right in front of the trailer and its doors sprung open. Four local chavs jumped out and started conversing. Both of us were just three meters away trying to figure out what was going on; ducking under the trailer to try and get a glimpse of the situation. One of them got in the car and we instantly understood everything.
All four took turns fucking the prostitute they had brought there, as soon as each had finished he'd get out of the car and high-five his buddy going in. They were quick fucks and we could hear the comments they made as they got out of the car. Stand and I looked at each other and the situation was similar to that in school when you have to laugh but just can't, and you've got your hand over your mouth. It was a superhuman effort not to laugh.
They got back in their car and left. Giaime came out of the bushes, he hadn't understood what had happened. We told him and we all burst into laughter.
We climbed the fence and painted with no further interruptions.
Koma TRV, A-line, 1993. |
Fifteen years later, it was a period of cleansing for us on the B-line. There was a lot of shit running we didn't like, so we often went to a backjump to go over those we didn't want to see running. Over a two-month period we changed the appearance of those cars, 5-6 minutes at our disposal each day, and a flood of tags and throwups.
Koma, Jon, Ver, Syla PAC B-Line, 2007. |
PP by Poo NSA, and GG by Gast. B-line, 2007. |
Ver NSA and Myk 106 on the side of the car. On the front of the train, "O" by O'Clock 156 from Paris, "M" by Myk 106, and "G" by Gast. B-line, 2007. |
We were waiting for a train behind a wall. It was me, Jon, Syla, Ver, and Var85. We spotted a guy in the courtyard of a building right next to us so we stood still. He stopped right in front of us, about two meters away on the other side of a fence. He looked furtive so I thought he had seen us and wanted to figure out who we were. Instead he stopped, turned around and with a quick gesture pulled down his pants, bent over and took a really fast, loud shit. We all looked at each other and I found myself in the same "school" situation as I had 15 years earlier, not being able to laugh just like the rest of us.
The guy remained bent over another thirty seconds to see if he had any more coming, then did a couple farts, and got back up and left without cleaning his ass.
Usually it was us who took our shit there; a coffee, a sigarette, and it just comes automatically.
That day after having painted we got chased big time, the guards tried ambushing us.
Half-hour later we went to a local bar to have breakfast and inside we found the same guards that had chased us. I ordered our coffees.
Koma
Usually it was us who took our shit there; a coffee, a sigarette, and it just comes automatically.
That day after having painted we got chased big time, the guards tried ambushing us.
Half-hour later we went to a local bar to have breakfast and inside we found the same guards that had chased us. I ordered our coffees.
Koma
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