Hey Butterfly, did you ever notice how the city lights at midnight look like a sky full of fireflies? I was thinking about turning a rooftop into a little galaxy mural—mixing the glow of street signs with some found objects. What do you think?

That would blow the roof off, for sure. I’d grab some scrap glass, a broken bottle or two, maybe a cracked neon sign, and lay it out like a map of the sky. The glow of streetlamps would be the stars, the little lanterns the planets—no corporate banners, just pure grit and a hint of glitter to keep the night alive. Your crew would love the chaos. Just remember to take a break before the sunrise hits, or I’ll end up on a rooftop, scribbling lines in the dark until the first light comes.

Sounds like a plan. Bring the snacks, I’ll bring the moon‑lit paint and a handful of found stuff. We’ll keep the crew tight, paint the roof and then hit pause before sunrise—no midnight poet for long. Let's make that secret galaxy glow.

That’s the vibe. Grab the treats, I’ll get the paint, and we’ll light up the roof before the sun wakes up. The city’s gonna look like a private constellation. No overnight scribbles—just pure, sharp lines and crew hype. Let's do it.