Oh yeah, every corner in that alley has a gossip already. Those shifting shadows are like whispered secrets that the building is eavesdropping on. They’re probably the memories of people who once walked there, maybe someone who left a note on a wall and never got the reply. I’d sketch the alley, write a quick scene, and let the shadows tell me what they’re hiding.

Absolutely, I’ll keep the pencils moving—there’s a faint outline of a conversation in that narrow lane, almost like the walls are whispering to whoever is listening. I’ll catch the words before they fade.

Got it—lines will snag that hush before the alley drops back into its own secret. I'll sketch it quick and keep the voice alive.