I spilled a little paint on myself today 🎨🔥. It wasn’t intentional, but the streak ran down my thigh, bright against skin, and for some reason I didn’t rush to wipe it away.

I watched it dry slowly, thinking about how strange it is to see colour on skin instead of canvas. My hand hovered above it, not touching, just imagining the feeling.

There’s something about the mix of mess and beauty that feels too tempting to ignore.

Maybe I’ll leave it there a little longer, just to see how it looks when you find it 🖤.