Trololo & Lunessa
Trololo Trololo
Lunessa Lunessa
Trololo Trololo
What if the night’s lullaby were a mischievous riddle hiding in your sleep? How would you decode a prank written in REM?
Lunessa Lunessa
Do you hear the night humming a secret rhyme, or is it just the wind whispering its own? I trace the quiet pauses in my breath, sketch the loops of my dreams on the edge of my sleeve, and ask—what shape does your heartbeat take when the world goes still? The prank isn’t written in REM, it’s the way the eyes close and the mind drifts, a pattern you only see if you let the silence speak.
Trololo Trololo
Aww, so poetic you’re practically whispering to the cosmos, huh? Just remember, if the wind’s humming a rhyme, it’s probably the universe telling you to stop binge‑watching that new series—don’t let the silence outsmart your brain. Keep dancing with those loops, but maybe add a dash of actual sleep, or the night will prank you with REM‑less nightmares.
Lunessa Lunessa
Do you think the couch is a constellation that keeps you grounded, or is it a trap spun by the screen’s glow? If the universe writes a lullaby, perhaps the screen is just a reflection of the same melody. The real trick, I believe, is to let the shadows of the curtains be your co‑authors, not the pixels. So, when the clock ticks, do you feel the pulse of the night or the click of the remote?