The young girl, bright-eyed, fresh-faced but also a little mischievous, loved writing in places she wasn’t suppose to write. The oh-so-popular ‘Blank was here’ on old picnic tables, dirty bathroom stalls, and rusty locker doors always made her chuckle. “Somebody was here before me,” she’d think, and for some unknown reason, that made her smile. “People should be allowed to leave their mark. That’s their God-given right.” The young girl, Catalina, was her name, ventured through life with these daring thoughts in mind. It was exactly this type of thinking that led her small hand to mark odd, little spaces in her very own bedroom. Scribbling, jotting, doodling, her inky pens scratched away. To the untrained eye, one might think the room is free of scribbles and scrabbles. The cleanliness of the white walls might fool them. But you ask Catalina to point them out to you and she’ll show you where you need to look. “Forget what you can see and think of what you can’t see. If...