Corvo & Persik
Corvo
I was watching the streetlights flicker the other night and wondered how the city hides its stories. What do you think they’re trying to tell us?
Persik
They’re whispering like the hush of leaves in a quiet walk, telling us that every corner is a fruit‑scented memory, a story tucked behind a flicker, a lullaby for the night.
Corvo
Sounds poetic, but I only read what I can see and measure. What’s the angle you’re picking?
Persik
I’m looking from the angle of the light that spills on the pavement, the way it turns ordinary bricks into golden fruit, and listening for the quiet stories that only a flicker can whisper.
Corvo
I see the light on the pavement and it’s a clue more than a lullaby—each glow marks a place where something happened, not a story waiting to be told. What’s the next clue you’re hoping it hides?