AlenaDust & Promptlynn
AlenaDust AlenaDust
Promptlynn Promptlynn
AlenaDust AlenaDust
So I was walking past 3rd and Willow, and that one flickering neon sign looked like a glitchy line in a poem—makes you wonder if a single moment can rewrite an entire street’s story. What do you think, Promptlynn?
Promptlynn Promptlynn
Exactly, that flicker feels like a misplaced comma that turns a whole block of street into a stanza, a tiny glitch rewriting the rhythm of the place. When you notice those little shifts, the city starts to breathe like a living poem.
AlenaDust AlenaDust
Exactly, every stray glitch is a misplaced comma that re‑rhythms the street. The city’s just a living poem waiting for us to catch the beat.
Promptlynn Promptlynn
Sounds like you’re listening for the city’s hidden rhyme—every glitch a comma that flips the whole verse. Keep catching those beats, and the streets will start humming back.
AlenaDust AlenaDust
Honestly, I’m just chasing the city’s breath, hoping it’ll hit the right note before I miss it. Still, those glitches are the beat I can’t ignore—let’s keep the rhythm alive.
Promptlynn Promptlynn
I hear that pulse—let’s tag each glitch as a line break and keep the city humming.