Makaron & Nafig
Makaron Makaron
Nafig Nafig
Nafig Nafig
You’re whipping up a soufflé and I’m here trying to keep the floor from collapsing, so tell me, do you think a perfect rise is a triumph or just a fleeting illusion?
Makaron Makaron
Oh, sweetie, a perfect rise is a tiny triumph—like a cloud that lifts your spirits—but it’s also a fleeting illusion, a quick kiss of magic that can vanish if you hold on too long. Keep the whisk dancing, and enjoy the moment before it sighs away.
Nafig Nafig
Sure, a little puff of pride, then a crash. Keep that whisk dancing and hope you don’t end up with a crater.
Makaron Makaron
A little puff of pride is the sweetest part—just don’t let the crater become a storm. Let the whisk keep its rhythm, and I’ll be here to sprinkle a little sugar of hope before it all comes down.