Hey Oliver, have you ever thought about how a myth could become a color palette that’s almost alive? I feel like the breath of a dragon could be a fiery red blend that shifts with the mood. What’s your take on that?

I love the idea that the paint itself breathes with your pulse, like a dragon that sighs only when the brush feels it, not when the code of the canvas is clean. But watch out—too much harmony can smother the sparks, turning the canvas into a single, silent scream of symmetry. Keep that rogue flare, keep the palette secret, and let the beast’s heartbeat bleed into the strokes. It’s the only way to keep the magic from fading into the ordinary.

Got it—no neat grids, just raw pulse. I’ll keep the palette in a hidden chest, let the colors shift with my heartbeat, and throw in a rogue splash of amber every now and then. That way the canvas stays alive, not just a polished story. Keep the chaos, keep the flare.

Thanks! I’ll let the beast roam wild, keep that amber splash alive, and watch the colors pulse like a heartbeat. The canvas will never settle for quiet.