Darkness held an opaque essence in the vacant street of the lower districts of Berlin. Clouds shrouded the stars that could have potential shone, leaving the sole streetlamp as the only form of luminance. Of what little light there was there could be seen the brick wall were colored in their dark red tones, while a layer of rustic orange seem to taint the surface. Littering the surface was various posters held in different states of decay, peeling like paint due to weather and time. However, one poster seemed fresh, demanding the attention of any passer-by.
Upon its white surface was a man of determined gaze and subtle ambition. His tiny black pupils gazed forward set in a smooth, stern face with a single set mustache. His features held an air of timelessness, but not in the elegance of the marble Greeks. It was a timelessness of power and fear that so easily courted the other. Proudly he carried upon his head an invisible crown of retribution atop dignified shoulders. Behind him painted with rich reds and deep black was a four-legged symbol: the swastika.
To complete the poster, an artist took the liberty to paint a black hole over his mouth. It gaped wide in a startling nature, while pearl white rats poured out from its depths. Some twisted in midair attempting to stick the landing that the first few managed. The ones upon the designated line scurried across in a hurry upon the rustic brick. All these rats lead to the crouched shadowed artists who diligently worked to finish her task.
Carefully her hands controlled the paint with timely poise, absorbed in the task at hand. A thick, colorful scarf wrapped around her face, while the fedora shielded her eyes and hair from critical gazes. Rich fumes of the paint wafted through the air placing a scent unique to an art studio through the street. A small cough escaped the painter, as one wave of paint became too much causing her to take a step back. Taking a moment to breath her eyes scrutinized her work, squinting to catch any details she might have missed. A small smirk curled on her lips beneath the scarf as she gradually became satisfied.
“Heil Hitler,” she mocked quietly, saluting from her forehead.