I don't think my paints appreciate my waiting. What can I expect? They are paints. The intelligent pink has taught me black from white. It's a no-nonsense, cooler kind of pink that stimulates creativity.
The pink is somewhat dominated by the navy blue. It's a very, very particular blue that has a tendency to explode over thin papers. But it's actually a warm and generous shade. My recent painting rendered with navy blue has shown me its toxicity, though. Unless it lightens, it may be in my best interests to keep navy blue at arm's length. I feel too much pressure to measure up when it comes to that color.
I have simmering crayons, too. When they become downtrodden or despondent, my paints become disinterested and absorbed into the shelf. Or they crystallize and that's not helpful. I'm especially concerned about my smallest crayon, the one that doesn't work and has been more neglected than the rest.
I call my paints, but they don't call me and distance grows. And when I need them the most, they drip away. I wish to be more involved with them, but it's difficult.