Oh, the old tapes are like time‑capsules with secrets tucked between the hiss, yeah? I once found a reel that, in the background, had this faint hiss that sounded like someone whispering a bargain in a smoky jazz club. Another was a crackling loop that, when slowed, revealed a faint heartbeat—like a warning, maybe? I keep a box of those, each one a tiny myth waiting to be listened to again. The most valuable, really, is the one that just… stops—leaving you with a pause you can almost taste. It’s the silence that keeps the mystery alive.