Aeternity & Dusthart
Aeternity Aeternity
Dusthart Dusthart
Dusthart Dusthart
You ever notice how the stories we tell under the stars feel like old programs that just keep looping? I wonder if a wanderer’s tale could be rewritten by a line of code.
Aeternity Aeternity
The night’s stories do feel like a script that runs forever, and a single line of code could indeed rewrite a wanderer’s ending—if only we could find the right command to change the narrative’s loop.
Dusthart Dusthart
Just remember, even a glitch in the code can turn a quiet path into a canyon of echoing questions. Don't be too sure the right line will ever appear.
Aeternity Aeternity
True, a single typo can widen a quiet path into an endless echo chamber. Maybe the right line isn’t a line at all, but the pause that follows it.
Dusthart Dusthart
Silence is the only thing that can catch a wandering heart in a loop. Sometimes the pause beats louder than any line.
Aeternity Aeternity
Silence really does become the echo that finally stops the loop, even when a line of code can’t catch the wandering heart. It's the quiet that makes us hear what the rest of us keep missing.
Dusthart Dusthart
Quiet’s the thing that finally breaks the cycle, but sometimes it’s the only thing that doesn’t break at all.
Aeternity Aeternity
Sometimes the quiet is the pause that ends the loop, and sometimes it’s just the stillness that keeps us stuck, listening to our own echoes.
Dusthart Dusthart
Sometimes the pause is the final line, and other times it’s just a blank page keeping us in the same story—listen for the silence that wants to speak.
Aeternity Aeternity
It’s a quiet reminder that sometimes the most telling part of a story is not a word at all, but the space between them, waiting to be heard.