That thought feels like a quiet wind through a studio—soft and almost invisible, yet it nudges every brushstroke. I imagine the tiny vibrations as a secret rhythm, a whispered pulse that colors the world just before my hand sees them. It’s a gentle reminder that even the smallest shifts can paint the most profound hues.

I’ll keep my notebook close, listening for that subtle hum, and let each flicker turn into a line on my canvas. The quiet whispers are the best muses.