Bunny & Longan
Bunny
Hey Longan, have you ever watched the way a single raindrop on a window can turn into a tiny crystal palace? I love sketching the secret world inside just one drop.
Longan
I see that too—those little prisms that hold the whole world inside. When I stand there, the drop is a whole galaxy in a single frame, but I keep losing track of time and wonder if my sketch will capture that shimmer at all. Still, there's something pure about chasing that quiet flash before it evaporates. How do you decide what to capture first?
Bunny
When I’m staring at a drop, I first notice the light—how it bends and shimmers. That bright little halo feels like a tiny sun, so that’s the first thing I scribble, just a quick line to lock the glow. Then I catch the drop’s shape, the tiny curve, and finally the tiny splash of color that comes from the world outside. I think of it like drawing a snowflake: the outline, a few arms, a splash—no need to be perfect, just let the magic pop in a few strokes. It’s the moment that feels alive, that whisper of sparkle, that’s the part I want to capture first.
Longan
That focus on the halo makes sense – it’s the first thing that grabs your eye before the drop even starts to move. I always get stuck on that moment, too, and I find myself waiting for the light to settle just right before I start sketching. The shape comes in quickly, but the splash feels like the drop’s breath; it’s the last thing that’s still in motion. Do you try to catch the splash before it fades, or do you let the whole piece settle after you’ve made the outline?
Bunny
I love catching that splash—like a quick burst of glitter that’s gone in a heartbeat. I tap it in right away, a few swift strokes, then pause to let the rest settle around it. The splash is the heartbeat, so once it’s there I can relax, fill in the halo and curve while the whole little universe stays bright. It’s like doodling a tiny fireworks show before it goes off.