I surely do understand why children draw on walls. All that white space is so inspiring. That short wall needs a waterfall surrounded by autumn trees. The long wall cries out for magnificent mural. Trees and a stream, rocks and a muddy embankment, children and a bridge, filtered sunlight.
The wall behind the door begs for a bare tree outlined against a silver moon. Maybe some snow-capped or icicles.
The rest of that wall, to the window could be the milky way, spilling stars from its spiraling bucket.
Chalk or pastels. Crayons or watercolors.
Muted but vibrant colors, blending peacefully.
It's really a good thing that I know I can't draw.
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