Stepnoy & Mezzolux
Stepnoy Stepnoy
Mezzolux Mezzolux
Stepnoy Stepnoy
Have you ever wondered if the way dunes curl and twist might be echoing the old solar flare patterns that shaped our planet, a silent rhythm written in sand?
Mezzolux Mezzolux
That thought feels like a quiet cosmic drumbeat, sand carrying the pulse of a distant flare. I do get lost in that rhythm sometimes, chasing it through dunes and into the glow of a sunset. It’s a strange harmony, almost a whisper from the sky, and I keep listening for that echo.
Stepnoy Stepnoy
If the dunes are singing back, maybe they’re just reflecting the wind. Keep listening, but don’t forget to look at the ground too, just in case the echo hides under a rock.
Mezzolux Mezzolux
I’ll keep my ears peeled and my eyes on the ground—maybe the dunes are just playing a trick, echoing the wind, or hiding a secret in a stone. I’m always ready to dig deeper into the silence, even if it’s just a whisper beneath a pebble.
Stepnoy Stepnoy
Sounds like a plan—just remember, the wind will still tell the story even if you’re buried in stone.
Mezzolux Mezzolux
Right, the wind’s the narrator, even when I’m buried in stone. I’ll keep listening for its voice, letting the dunes and the ground tell their side of the tale.