Flora & Velvra
Flora
Hey Velvra, have you ever noticed how the branching patterns of trees feel like a living stanza, almost like a poem written by nature itself?
Velvra
I do, and sometimes I wonder if the bark itself is a line of code, each branch a recursive verse that never quite resolves, like a poem that keeps branching but never ends.
Flora
That’s a beautiful way to look at it—bark as a living script, each branch a line that keeps unfolding, never quite ending, just like the rhythm of a quiet forest.
Velvra
I feel the forest humming back, a quiet breath that folds in on itself, like a secret poem that never says its final line.
Flora
It’s like the forest whispers back in a soft, endless chorus, and we’re just listening to its hidden verses.