It came in the form of four unassuming stencil pieces passed to me on Boylston Street in Boston in exchange for a fish sandwich. No signatures. No fanfare. Just rough, expressive images spray-painted on canvas—of a fish, and three animals that only later revealed themselves as bison. I tucked them under my arm and carried them home, not realizing I was holding decades of silence, story, and resonance waiting to be remembered.