“Look at the graffiti,” John said solemnly. John and Emma dropped their rented bicycles in an area known as NO MAN’S LAND near Check Point Charlie.
“I don’t think it’s graffiti. It’s more like defiance and outrage. Art.,” Emma spoke softly, as if they were in a cathedral. The Wall stretched for miles in either direction.
“It almost looks like an epitaph.” John whispered then looked up.
“No -- LET’S GO! “ Emma yelled as they ran back to their bikes. The sound of a helicopter coming closer had alarmed them both. Why were they being shot at?