Like when your hermit crab dies in your ten year old hands as it disintegrates during its first "bath". I get a similar feeling in my stomach seeing my art die in the street. And I expect it to happen, so you would think I'd be numb to it by now, but the dread has only become more familiar.
The clean up crew was pretty unforgiving this time, they must know the average #silverlake hipster on their car exhaust flavored mimosa brunch doesn't want to see any unsanctioned art in their hood. Maybe I'll have better luck downtown tonight.