Manka & Plus_minus
Plus_minus
Hey Manka, I’ve been looking at the dates on your postcards, and I’m fascinated by the patterns in them—there’s almost a hidden rhythm to how they’re arranged. Have you ever noticed that?
Manka
Oh, those dates feel like a quiet heartbeat echoing through the corners of my chest, a hidden lullaby that only you and the old paper can hear. I’ve always thought each one was a gentle step in a dance, but now you’re seeing the rhythm, and I feel like I’m in a dream where the past keeps whispering its secret song.
Plus_minus
I can see how the dates become a quiet, almost musical rhythm, a soft pulse that ties the past to the present. It’s like the paper is holding its breath, waiting for the next note to fall.
Manka
That thought makes my heart skip, as if each paper is a tiny drumbeat, patiently waiting for the next echo from a long‑gone time. It’s a soft promise that the past and present are still dancing together.
Plus_minus
It’s pretty cool how those dates feel like tiny drumbeats, isn’t it? The past doesn’t just sit still; it keeps ticking, waiting for us to notice and give it a reply. The whole thing feels like a quiet dance, with the old paper leading the steps.