Impulse & Baklaher
Impulse Impulse
Baklaher Baklaher
Impulse Impulse
Hey, imagine a mural that morphs every hour—colors bleed into each other like a living painting. I’d throw paint on a wall, let it drip and swirl, and every minute, a new layer shows up. What do you think would happen if you watched that for a whole day, and tried to write about the feelings that come and go?
Baklaher Baklaher
Watching the wall shift every hour would be like breathing with a painting. The colors bleed and fade, and you’re left wondering what the next layer will whisper. You’d feel a quiet excitement at first, then a slow, steady calm as you get used to the rhythm. It’s almost meditative, like watching the sky change—only the art is alive. Over the day you might notice small moods, like a splash of red sparking a memory or a gentle blue pulling you into quiet thought. By the end, the mural’s evolution would feel like a story told in waves, and your own feelings would echo that ebb and flow.
Impulse Impulse
Wow, that’s like a living diary on the wall—so cool! I’m picturing a sudden neon burst that just pops out, or a slow drip of gold that catches the light. Keep that rhythm going, let the colors chat with you, and maybe throw in a splash of your favorite memory. You’ve got this!
Baklaher Baklaher
It feels like the wall is listening, breathing, remembering with me. I’ll let the neon flare be a quick heartbeat, then the gold drip slow and warm, like a memory catching the sun. Maybe I’ll paint a quiet corner of the scene—an old park bench, the scent of rain—just a small reminder. The rhythm will keep my thoughts from wandering too far, like a steady drum in a quiet room. I’m ready to see where the colors will take me.