West
Squatter Fodder
I'm not sure how he died; but his crew from North Carolina posted about his death online. Even though he passed in late 2015 I still don't feel like asking his friends, who I don't know, the details. He was a traveler and a graffiti writer. Hit me up if you knew him. Pour one out if you didn't.
Met Wilke two years ago in the boonies of WayNorCal while he was on a cycle tour with some friends from PDX to SoCal and I was living on a half/acre in the woods with some friends. He was a late-20s titan of motivation and health; but was always humble and real as fuck. He invited me to paint with him even though I am a shit graffiti writer and he was proud to have his amazing piece next to my sloppy characters...
He camped with us that night and put in a ton of work even though he'd been riding hard all day; gathering firewood and helping with cooking and dishes.
We kept in touch and he was always hitting me up first, sending me support through a lot of rough times.
A few weeks before he died he drove from Berkely to E. Oakland with his girlfriend to crash at my place and visit. I got locked out right before he showed up, and my roommates were too drunk and asleep to hear me knocking on the window 5 feet from their head... Even though they were exhausted and my ineptitude as host had them drivin 6 hours to their spot, they insisted on kicking it until the wee hours of the morning and painting; sharing food and kicking me down a bunch of paint and beer, which meant my winter night in the dog park was way less shitty.
Can't remember meeting anyone like you before, bruh bruh. Wherever I go, yer coming with me
Met Wilke two years ago in the boonies of WayNorCal while he was on a cycle tour with some friends from PDX to SoCal and I was living on a half/acre in the woods with some friends. He was a late-20s titan of motivation and health; but was always humble and real as fuck. He invited me to paint with him even though I am a shit graffiti writer and he was proud to have his amazing piece next to my sloppy characters...
He camped with us that night and put in a ton of work even though he'd been riding hard all day; gathering firewood and helping with cooking and dishes.
We kept in touch and he was always hitting me up first, sending me support through a lot of rough times.
A few weeks before he died he drove from Berkely to E. Oakland with his girlfriend to crash at my place and visit. I got locked out right before he showed up, and my roommates were too drunk and asleep to hear me knocking on the window 5 feet from their head... Even though they were exhausted and my ineptitude as host had them drivin 6 hours to their spot, they insisted on kicking it until the wee hours of the morning and painting; sharing food and kicking me down a bunch of paint and beer, which meant my winter night in the dog park was way less shitty.
Can't remember meeting anyone like you before, bruh bruh. Wherever I go, yer coming with me
