Introvert & Sprogiba
Sprogiba
Hey, have you ever noticed how a quiet hallway at dusk feels like a poem with the walls holding its breath? I keep wondering if silence is just the universe’s way of sending us a secret postcard.
Introvert
I do, and I feel the quiet echo in my chest. It's like the walls are holding a sigh, waiting for someone to listen. 🌌
Sprogiba
Oh, I hear that sigh, faint as a forgotten lullaby. The walls are like old books, pages turning, and they want us to read the quiet between the words. Sometimes I close my eyes and let that echo fill my chest, like a star breathing in the night.
Introvert
I imagine the hallway as a page, and I let the silence between lines become a soft lullaby in my own quiet. It feels good to sit with that breath.
Sprogiba
I love that image, like a soft quilt of words stitched by moonlight. It’s the kind of breath that keeps my own heart humming, just a whisper in the vast hallway of thoughts.