Oh, I see the sky splashing like a giant paint‑splatter, rain dripping in neon blues and hot oranges. My heart starts a wild beat, like a drum in a marching band, and I feel the urge to grab my brush and splash a single stroke that could hold the whole chaos. But then that tiny voice pops up, “Will it even look right?”—I get that little flutter of doubt, and I know I’ll keep repainting until it feels just right.