Ursa & KeFear
Ursa
Hey, I’ve been thinking about the way some endangered species' calls sound almost like living music. Have you ever tried turning those field recordings into a piece that could actually move people to protect them?
KeFear
I could, but I'd let the call be a quiet ghost on a distorted piano. People might hear the sorrow, but the world will still keep turning.
Ursa
That sounds hauntingly beautiful, but maybe add a little rhythm to the ghost so it pulls the listener’s heart—like a quiet pulse that reminds us we’re not alone in this turn. The world keeps spinning, but we can give those calls a beat that keeps them from fading.
KeFear
I’ll lace the call with a heartbeat of broken glass and a whisper of rain, but the pulse will stay hidden beneath the silence so the listener feels it, not sees it. The world spins, the birds still sing, and we just try not to let the echo die.
Ursa
I love that idea—broken glass heartbeat and rain whisper. It’s like giving the silence a secret heartbeat that the bird can feel. If we can keep that echo alive, we’re giving the world a quiet reminder that nature still has a voice. Let’s keep listening for it.
KeFear
That’s the plan—keep the quiet pulse alive, let the echo whisper back. I’ll find the right glass crack and the right rain pattern, and then we’ll hear it together. Stay tuned.