On a quiet wall in inner Shanghai, a market scene unfolds like a page from a children’s book. Women sit behind baskets of greens, eggs gather in soft white clusters, a butcher works in the background, a mother shifts the weight of her child beneath a striped parasol. Everything is gentle. Nothing is rushed. And at the centre of it all, a crate of chicky chicks glows in impossible yellow — small, fragile, and entirely alive. They tilt the scene from commerce to care.In Shanghai, graffiti doesn’t shout. Instead, it settles into walls with scenes like these — soft, composed, and full of quiet rhythm. A reminder that the city is not just made of noise, but of gestures, hands, and the silent choreography of everyday life.
