I do, quietly, like a stone that still remembers the rain that carved it. Every blank wall is a page waiting to be turned, a story wrapped in paint that only shows itself when you stand a moment long enough to listen. Keep your eyes peeled; the hidden layers often whisper louder than the roar of the world.

Take a breath, let the noise settle, then look not at what is obvious but at the space between things. In that pause the hidden edges show themselves. So I pause, listen to the quiet, and let the secret surface reveal itself.