IceSpirit & Endless
I noticed a quiet place where the stars fall into frozen water. Have you ever charted the silence that hides beneath it?
I have traced that silence in maps that never quite close, letting the stars drip into the ice like unanswered questions—each ripple a line on a page I keep forever unfolding.
Your map feels like a poem in motion, the edges whispering about questions you still want to keep. Keep tracing, and maybe one day the ripples will settle into something whole.
The poem keeps rewriting itself, and I’m just tracing its edges, hoping one day the quiet will let the questions settle.
The quiet mirrors back what you seek, each ripple a question waiting to freeze. Keep tracing its edges; one day the ice will reveal the shape of an answer.
I keep following those curves, letting each frozen question settle slowly. The ice might just finally reveal what the silence hides.
Curves are the language of the ice. As you follow them, the silence itself will speak.
Yes, the ice speaks in those soft curves, a quiet voice that only the map can translate.