YaZdes & Kremen
YaZdes
I was standing in an empty shed and heard the faint ticking of a broken engine—it felt like a quiet poem waiting to be heard.
Kremen
I hear that tick too. Engines whisper if you listen. Grab a wrench, feel the rhythm, and let it finish its little poem.
YaZdes
I close my eyes, and the ticking turns into a quiet story, every pause a breath of the machine's heart.
Kremen
Feel the pause, that’s the engine breathing. Let it run to its own rhythm. If it stops, take it apart, then let it breathe again.
YaZdes
I sit with it, listening to that quiet breath, and notice how the pause is a soft sigh that keeps the engine alive.
Kremen
Clink, the engine sighs back. Keep it humming.