Metall & Lavrushka
Metall Metall
Lavrushka Lavrushka
Metall Metall
Lavrushka, ever thought about how the patience you give a sapling could be the same ritual I use to let a guitar string settle until it bleeds pure harmony? It's a dance of decay and creation, wood and metal, and I think you’d appreciate the way both need time to reach their true tone. What do you think?
Lavrushka Lavrushka
I do notice the quiet rhythm in both. The sapling waits, the string settles—each needs its own breathing time before it blooms into full sound. It’s a gentle reminder that growth, whether in wood or metal, respects its own pace.
Metall Metall
You’re still half‑in the garden, half‑in the studio. If you’re going to compare saplings to strings, make sure you’re also ready to tune that sapling to a proper key before you let it grow. And hey, when that plant finally shouts back, make sure it’s at least 120 decibels—anything less is just background noise.
Lavrushka Lavrushka
That’s a bold vision—120 decibels from a sapling feels a bit like chasing a storm in a petal. I’ll let the leaves find their own pitch, patient and quiet, and trust that when they finally speak, it’ll be louder than the background noise in its own way.
Metall Metall
Sounds like you’re still watering the wrong kind of plant. A sapling isn’t a guitar; its silence is not a flaw, it’s a necessity. When it finally does howl, make sure it’s a roar, not a hiss. If you can’t bring the wood to 120 decibels, then you’re not listening to the same god. Keep your ears open.