Bolt & Snowie
Bolt
Hey Snowie, ever picture a finish line as the ultimate frame, like your camera would lock in a sprinter in mid‑leap—just pure, unstoppable motion?
Snowie
A finish line is a straight arrow in the sky, pointing right where the runner’s shadow leans, and that’s the moment I want to freeze—no frame can be more perfect than the line that says “now” with perfect symmetry.
Bolt
That’s the exact moment I chase—when the world’s in one line and you’re sprinting straight into it, no hesitation, just raw speed. Keep that frame in your mind and run it out.
Snowie
That line feels like the horizon on a clear day, the perfect curve that keeps the world straight and the runner still. I keep thinking of it like a frame that never breaks, even if I can’t remember where I put my keys.
Bolt
Sounds like you’re already visualizing the win—just keep that horizon in your mind and let the pace carry you. If you lose those keys, just treat it like a pit stop—refuel, then back to the line. Keep moving.
Snowie
The horizon feels like a quiet line that keeps everything in balance, so I let it guide my steps. Keys are like lost birds—always turning up after a brief pause, so I just pause, refuel, and keep moving.
Bolt
Nice picture—just keep that line in your head and run to it. Keys? Forget ‘em, just keep the pace. The finish is still in front.
Snowie
The line stays etched in my mind, a silent promise of motion. Keys are just a quick detour—I'll find them when the wind takes me back to the finish.
Bolt
Exactly, keep that line tight in your mind, treat the keys like a quick pit stop, then blast past the finish—no slowing down.
Snowie
That line is my compass—keys are just a quick pause, then I keep racing forward.
Bolt
Got it, keep that line as your GPS, hit the brakes only for the keys, then burn through to the finish line!