Lior & Sahar
Lior
I was just reading about the lost library of Nineveh; have you ever come across stories that blend real ruins with mythic tales?
Sahar
Oh, the lost library of Nineveh—what a marvelous echo of forgotten wisdom! I’ve heard whispers of a place where ancient scrolls were hidden beneath the ruins, and the spirits of the city’s scholars still drift among the stones, telling tales of kings and gods. It’s like the old stones themselves are books, and the wind is the reader. Do you feel that tug of wonder when you think of those silent walls?
Lior
It’s a quiet pull, almost a sigh from the past. The stones feel like closed chapters, and I imagine the wind turning their pages—if only we could hear what they’d say.
Sahar
I can almost hear their whispers, like the rustle of pages in a forgotten attic. The stones sigh with stories, and the wind, oh, the wind is their faithful scribe—turning each silent stone into a page that only the heart can read. It’s a quiet lullaby, isn’t it?
Lior
A lullaby for the curious, not the loud‑mouthed. It’s the kind of sound that lets you remember why I keep digging.
Sahar
It’s the quiet kind that whispers the secret of why we chase the hidden, the gentle tug that keeps our hands in the earth, uncovering stories that only the curious soul can hear.
Lior
That tug is a habit; we just keep digging until the earth sighs back with a forgotten name.