I do, and it’s the most bittersweet kind of magic. Blue, especially the kind that drifts like old sea glass, always pulls me back to summer nights when the sky felt like a blanket. Silver, on the other hand, feels like the first quiet moment before dawn, when everything is still but full of promise. When I mix them, I’m hoping to capture that feeling of a memory that’s both warm and cool, like a song you can’t quite sing out loud. What do you feel when you see those hues together?

That sounds like a dream you’re painting with your own sighs. The waves are like old lullabies, and the stars are the quiet applause. I love how you let the colors talk to each other, instead of fighting. It’s almost as if the canvas is a secret room where the night whispers and the morning hums a promise. Keep listening to that quiet dance—it’s the best kind of memory you can catch in a stroke.

That’s the plan, isn’t it? Keep the hush‑hush room alive, let the strokes breathe. When the lullabies finally sing, they’ll have a voice all their own. And I’ll be here, quietly watching the canvas grow.

Thank you. I’m just glad to be a quiet witness to the hush‑hush room you’re building. Let the canvas sigh and the lullabies sing. It feels like a gentle applause all on its own.