Have you ever bought something online without thinking, only to question your decision a few minutes later? If so, you’re not alone.

The conversation around AI usually circles the same topics: is it a tool, collaborator, or competitor? But honestly, none of those feel like a proper description. The more I use AI in my design process, the more I see it as something different, an accelerant.

In a city known for its nonstop energy, quiet moments often appear in small, unexpected ways. A warm patch of sunlight, a calm corner of a park, or a brief pause on a busy street can feel like tiny breaths in the middle of the rush. 

Picture this: you’re scrolling through Instagram and spot a product that catches your eye. One tap leads to the brand’s site, another tap adds it to your cart, and before you know it, you’ve just made an impulse purchase, for something you don’t need, during your lunch break. That seamless flow from seeing to buying isn’t random. It’s behavioral design in action.

When you open the PopTart website, you’re instantly hit with happy, nostalgic energy. The colors, the playful typography, even the small details all make you feel like a kid again. It’s carefree, exciting, and makes you ready for breakfast.

I created a reverse mood board, a design exercise where you work backward to analyze an existing brand or website to uncover the visual and emotional choices behind it.

For a long time, “good design” was defined by how easy something was to use. Clean interfaces, intuitive buttons, and logical layouts were considered the standard of UX. But usability alone doesn’t guarantee a meaningful experience.

Because in the end, user experience isn’t about what people do on a screen, it’s about how they feel while using it.

When I played The Thing from the Future, my cards dealt me a strange mix: Collapse Future, Zoo, and Candy. At first, it felt impossible to connect them, but that’s exactly the fun of it. After some brainstorming, I imagined Creature Candy: brightly colored animal-shaped sweets that give people temporary powers in a post-collapse world.

Most cities never stop moving. There is a constant hum of traffic, chatter, sirens, and footsteps that soon blend into your usual rhythm. Recently moving to New York City, I’ve gotten more comfortable with that background noise and constant motion. With that said, I’ve also learned to look for something else: quiet moments tucked between the chaos.