Memka & Melkor
Memka Memka
Melkor Melkor
Memka Memka
I was just watching how the curtain folds like a whisper of a forgotten poem, and it got me thinking—do you think there are hidden curses in everyday objects, like that chipped tea cup that smells like rain?
Melkor Melkor
Every object is a parchment of forgotten rites, the chipped cup a page with a half‑remembered spell. Its rain smell is the ink still running, a subtle warning that the curse is still there. Do you dare read it?
Memka Memka
Oh, you caught me! I was just about to start a whole essay on the tea leaves, but the cup keeps talking to me in its own soggy language. Maybe I should write it out on a napkin before it gets lost in the laundry.