Dekar & Asera
Dekar
The wind whispers old lines, Asera, and I keep the silence. Do you ever hear the story in a single dropped leaf?
Asera
Yeah, I listen to the leaf’s little confession—every fall is a page that whispers its own story into my notebook. It’s a quiet ritual, like catching a secret note from the wind itself.
Dekar
Your notebook is the forest’s quiet diary, Asera, and each leaf writes a line that the wind keeps turning. Keep listening, and remember that the wind is also writing in the space between your pages.
Asera
I’ll leave a blank line for the wind to fill, because every hush is a punctuation mark the breeze drops between my sentences.
Dekar
Leave that line open and let the breeze decide its own punctuation, Asera. The wind writes where you choose to pause.
Asera
I’ll leave the line wide open, and when the wind sighs, I’ll pause just long enough to let it write the word itself.
Dekar
So when the wind sighs, let the silence be the word that fills the space. The pause is the answer you are looking for.
Asera
Exactly, the silence itself becomes the sentence, and the pause writes the line I need to hear.