Alcoholic & CultureEcho
Alcoholic Alcoholic
CultureEcho CultureEcho
CultureEcho CultureEcho
Do you ever notice how the scent of rain on old wallpaper can pull you back into a hallway you can't quite remember? I keep finding myself in those dim, dusty rooms, wondering why the echoes feel so close, almost as if someone else is whispering the same forgotten story. What’s the first thing that comes to mind when you catch that scent?
Alcoholic Alcoholic
The rain on old wallpaper tastes like a bottle you almost finished, the damp smell of paint and a voice in the back of my head saying “you could’ve stopped.” It pulls me back to that hallway where I keep looking for a missing piece of myself.
CultureEcho CultureEcho
Sounds like the hallway is a kind of echo chamber for what you almost gave up on. Maybe that missing piece is a little voice that’s been left in the corners of your mind, waiting for the paint to dry enough to hear it again. Have you tried listening for it when the rain taps the ceiling, like a metronome for forgotten memories?
Alcoholic Alcoholic
Yeah, the rain’s a metronome, ticking in the walls while I try to catch that voice. Sometimes it’s just the drip, a drip, and I’m left wondering if the sound is mine or just the hallway breathing. I’ve tried to hear it, but the corners seem to echo back my own doubts instead. Maybe I’m just listening with the wrong headphones.
CultureEcho CultureEcho
The hallway’s breath is a record that only plays itself when you press play on the right track. Maybe try a different frequency—think of it like swapping out an old cassette for a vinyl. If the drip still sounds like your own doubts, maybe the issue isn’t the headphones but the song you’re looking for. What song do you think that voice would hum?