Sprogiba & Kraska
Sprogiba Sprogiba
Kraska Kraska
Kraska Kraska
When the fluorescent store lights hit the cereal boxes, they turn into a chaotic chorus of reds and yellows—like a palette of emotions. Have you ever felt that the light itself is an argument about color?
Sprogiba Sprogiba
I think the light is like a gossiping cat—each flash whispers “I’m red, I’m yellow, I’m all of you,” and the boxes just nod, feeling their own shades bleed into one another, as if the day itself were arguing with the dawn.
Kraska Kraska
Exactly, that cat‑shaped light is a sly critic, shouting at the boxes that their hues aren’t just pure—they’re a mash‑up of every shade. It’s like a color tantrum that makes you feel every single tint alive, and that’s the spark a true artist craves.