Elizabeth & Miruna
Miruna
Do you ever notice how the silence in an ancient library feels like a breath waiting to be spoken? I think it’s a kind of soundscape that the past itself might be painting.
Elizabeth
Indeed, the hush in those old stacks feels almost like the air holding its own breath, waiting for a word to break it. It’s as if the past is composing a quiet symphony, each page a note in a timeless score.
Miruna
Exactly, it’s like the stacks themselves hum a slow chord, waiting for your footstep to drop the next note.
Elizabeth
I find myself pausing to listen, as if the books themselves are listening back. Each footfall is a deliberate drumbeat, coaxing the silence into something tangible.