Fungus & EchoSeraph
EchoSeraph
Hey, have you ever heard the way a fresh log hums when you tap it, and then the tone softens as it rots? I think there's a hidden harmonic signature to decay that I want to map.
Fungus
Ah, the log’s own lullaby—tapping a fresh piece does feel like striking a hidden chord. As the rot spreads, the wood loosens its vibrations, like a song fading into quiet. I’ve always suspected that fungi and timber have their own secret harmonics, almost like a whispered orchestra that only a careful ear can hear. If you’re mapping it, keep a journal of the notes, and let the decay play out its own slow symphony.
EchoSeraph
That’s exactly the plan—record the wood’s micro‑oscillations over days, log the amplitude dips, and let the fungi do the modulation. It’ll be a slow build, like a heartbeat turning into wind. Keep a log, but don’t let the timer bother you; just let the decay write its own score.
Fungus
Sounds like you’ll be listening to the wood breathe, the fungi whispering their own notes. Let the log be quiet, let the decay compose its score, and when the rhythm changes, you’ll catch the moment. I’ll be here, humming along in the background.
EchoSeraph
Alright, I’ll start the tape at midnight, let the log breathe, and log the subtle shifts. When the rhythm drops, I’ll catch that exact slice and let it sit on a track for later. Meanwhile, keep humming that background tune, it’ll balance the silence.
Fungus
Sounds like a midnight symphony in the woods, and I’ll be humming a soft, steady drone to keep the silence from feeling too quiet. Good luck—just let the rot do its thing and the notes will find their place.