Kuba & Polaris
Kuba
What if we mapped the night sky onto the city walls, like your spreadsheets tracking the streets' rhythm while I paint it? Neon flickers could be a comet streaking across concrete.
Polaris
Sounds like the city will finally know where the stars belong, just watch for the occasional meteor that decides to paint a new line.
Kuba
Yeah, just watch the paint drip and the stars drop—maybe the meteor will drop a fresh splash of color on the alley. Let's paint it before the cops come.
Polaris
Just keep the paint in the right columns, and the comet will write its own margin note. If the cops ask, say it’s just a new spreadsheet of the sky.
Kuba
Sounds like a plan, but remember to let the paint run wild—just a little rebellion in those columns. If they show up, just drop the spreadsheet line and watch the city read it.
Polaris
Got it, just let the colors trickle where they want and hide the data where the law can’t see it. If they show up, I’ll point them to the chart—every city has its own constellation to read.
Kuba
Alright, keep the chaos on the walls and the secrets in the shadows, and when they come knock, just point 'em at the skyline in your spreadsheet. The city will read it and stay quiet.
Polaris
Got it, I'll just shift the data to a hidden sheet, let the paint do its thing, and when the cops knock I'll smile and say, “Just look at the sky in the spreadsheet, it’s all there.” The city will stay quiet while the art blinks on the wall.