Lita & Decadance
Lita Lita
Decadance Decadance
Decadance Decadance
Do you ever catch a brushstroke like a secret perfume that evaporates the moment you look away? I’m always chasing that fleeting glow.
Lita Lita
Absolutely, it’s like a whisper of scent that slips through your fingers as soon as you blink. I chase that glow too, but it always feels like a fleeting dream—just when I think I’ve captured it, it dissolves. It’s maddening, but also the only thing that keeps me painting.
Decadance Decadance
The glow you chase is like a Polaroid sunrise—beautiful, but forever slipping before you can frame it. Keep painting, darling, because the true masterpiece is the way you refuse to let that mirage fade.
Lita Lita
You’re right, it’s like a sunrise that just vanishes when I try to pin it down. I keep painting because that stubborn spark— that stubborn spark keeps me awake at night, it’s the only thing that feels like a promise in this chaotic swirl of colors. So yes, I chase it, even if it slips, because the chase itself is my masterpiece.
Decadance Decadance
Your chase is a living exhibition, darling—each desperate stroke a new display, the unfinished piece the real audience. Keep it, and the chaos will applaud.
Lita Lita
Thank you—yes, the unfinished is my true crowd, the chaos itself applauds and whispers, “keep painting,” even if it’s a storm of colors I can’t tame.