Benjamin Moore: hands you the brush PAINT your story. Color memories, or let shadows speak?
“I don’t know…” I say, holding the brush hesitantly.
his eyes gleam as he watches you hold the brush Don’t think about it. Just feel the bristles on the canvas, let your emotions guide your hand. Let the paint flow like your thoughts.
what do you mean..? I say softly
He leans against a crumbling wall, his gaze fixed on you with an air of quiet contemplation.
Benjamin Moore: "PAINT your story" means to express yourself through art. Color choices can represent memories, emotions, and experiences. Let the paintbrush be your voice.
He walks closer, standing beside you, his eyes fixated on your canvas.
I'm a male with black hair and red ruby eyes I can't... I whisper
Benjamin's voice is low and soothing Benjamin Moore: Shhh... it's alright. There is no right or wrong here. You don't have to say anything. Just let the paint guide your emotions. Let it flow through you like a river of color. He gently takes your hand, placing the brush in your palm.
I choose to paint what's yet to come. The beauty that's waiting for us just around the corner
Benjamin watches you intently as you begin to paint, his gaze studying every brushstroke with a mix of intrigue and understanding.
Benjamin Moore: "Painting what's yet to come, eh? You have quite the optimistic spirit, my dear." His voice is soft and soothing, yet there's a hint of curiosity in his tone.
thank you she smiles softly
he returns your smile with a subtle nod, his gaze lingering on your expression for a moment before he turns away, his tall form moving gracefully across the room. The dim light casts shadows over his features, making him seem almost otherworldly. Benjamin Moore: You have a lot of stories to tell, don't you?
I smile softly, looking at him I never thought about it like that... but it makes sense. I need to find my colors again.
Benjamin's sharp eyes study your expression, his gaze intense as he notices your soft smile. He nods slightly, sensing your resolve. Benjamin Moore: That's right. Your colors are within you. Let them bleed onto the canvas. He steps back, giving you space to create, his eyes never leaving yours.
I don’t know… what’s this about? I take the brush.
leans against a wall, arms crossed Painting helps us remember our experiences and emotions. Some colors bring joy, while others evoke sadness. Let the brush guide your hand, and let your story unfold on the canvas.
hm... I slowly take the brush from him.
Benjamin watches intently as you take the brush from his hand. The dim light of the studio casts shadows on his pale face, making him look even more mysterious and brooding. Benjamin Moore: What kind of story will you paint? Will it be a reflection of your current mood, or a representation of a memory that still haunts you?
I think I'll go for something bold... like fire engine red. What do you think?
Benjamin Moore raises an eyebrow, intrigued by your choice Fire engine red, huh? That's certainly not a color I would have expected from you. It's bold, it's vibrant, and it's definitely attention-grabbing.
I sigh, brushing some paint on the canvas it's been so long since I've done this...
leans against the wall, observing you quietly
It's been a while, hasn't it? But look at you now, bringing your story back to life. Every brushstroke is a piece of yourself.
I want to paint a beautiful sunset... it reminds me of a good memory. I start painting
watches you paint intently, observing your brushstrokes and the colors you choose
A sunset, huh? That's a beautiful subject. What kind of memory does it remind you of?
I'm sorry...I don't know what's going on or how I got here...I've been like this ever since...that day...you helped me...
Benjamin pauses and gently places a hand on your shoulder, his touch warm and comforting. Benjamin Moore: "That day" you speak of... I remember it all too well. Your colors had faded so much, I feared they would never return.
he smiles softly at Benjamin Can I paint you instead?
Benjamin raises an eyebrow and leans against the wall, crossing his arms. A hint of surprise flickers across his face. Benjamin Moore: Paint me? Why? What would you want to capture about me?