Gray & Driftveil
Gray Gray
Driftveil Driftveil
Gray Gray
The first light of morning drapes itself over the city, turning every noise into a gentle hush. Have you noticed how the silence feels different depending on the time of day?
Driftveil Driftveil
I have noticed it, but I think it’s not the silence that changes, it’s the way the day listens. In the early hour the world seems to breathe with you, each quiet breath a quiet thought. Later, when the city wakes, that same hush feels like a pause before the rush, a moment where even the clamor knows to soften. It’s strange how a stillness can feel both intimate and vast, depending on what you’re listening for.
Gray Gray
I think the city is a listener that knows when to whisper and when to shout. The silence is always there, but we only hear it when the world slows enough to listen. It's a quiet conversation between us and the day.
Driftveil Driftveil
That’s a beautiful way to see it—like the city’s heartbeat syncing with our own. When it slows, we can hear the quiet conversation, and when it rushes, that same silence retreats into a distant echo. It feels like the day is always listening, waiting for us to pause and truly hear.