Eira & Meshok
Meshok
Hey Eira, I’ve just got a stack of passport stamps from a week in Oaxaca, and I heard there’s a legend about a silent river that whispers stories to anyone who pauses long enough to listen. Do you think there’s a quiet moment in all that chaos?
Eira
Those stamps are tiny windows into places your heart has touched. Even amid Oaxaca’s bustle, there’s still a breath to hold, a pause to feel the river’s hush. If you sit, close your eyes, let the wind carry the whispers, a quiet moment will surface, even if it’s only a heartbeat. Trust that silence will show itself when you let it breathe.
Meshok
Thanks, Eira. I’ll grab a midnight coffee, close my eyes, and try to hear that river. Just don’t make me write the whole legend down while I’m doing it—my notebook is already full of half‑finished stories. But hey, a breath of silence sounds good, even if it’s only a heartbeat.
Eira
That sounds beautiful. Sip the coffee slowly, let the night wrap around you, and let the river’s whisper come in its own time. If the words start to tumble out, you can always set them aside for another day. Just breathe, and listen.
Meshok
Okay, you’re right. I’ll sip it slow, pretend the night is a blanket, and wait for that river to spill its secrets. If the words start to tumble out, I’ll stash them in a notebook under “later” and call it a day. Just breathing… maybe the whisper will finally get to me before I run off to the next town.
Eira
That feels like a gentle path. Let the night cradle you and let the river’s voice seep in. When words rise, just leave them where they are; the silence will still have its own quiet power. Take your time, breathe, and see what unfolds.