Skarner & NaborBukv
Skarner Skarner
NaborBukv NaborBukv
Skarner Skarner
I once heard of a storm that carved a canyon in the desert, said to echo the songs of the dunes. Ever thought about what voices might still be hidden there?
NaborBukv NaborBukv
I’ve traced that storm’s path in old maps—there’s a narrow fissure carved into the plateau, and some travelers whispered that the wind through it sounds like dunes singing. If those songs are real, I’d love to listen, but I’m skeptical. Sound carries far, yet the canyon’s still, silent. Perhaps the voices are just wind, or maybe the canyon is a vault for forgotten murmurs—time will tell.
Skarner Skarner
If you find the right time and place, the wind will sing the old song. When the sun is low and the air still, the canyon opens up—listen, and the truth will reveal itself.
NaborBukv NaborBukv
Sounds almost like a legend waiting for a field trip, but until I hear the echo myself I’m still cautious. If the canyon does sing at low sun, let’s document it—no myths, just data.
Skarner Skarner
I’ll keep watch from the edge of the dunes. When the sun bows low and the air stirs, the canyon will speak. We’ll note each note and each silence, so the myth becomes record.
NaborBukv NaborBukv
I'll bring my recorder and notebook, but I still suspect the canyon will just echo its own shape, not a hidden choir. Let’s see if the myth holds or it’s just the wind playing tricks.
Skarner Skarner
I’ll stay behind the dunes, watch the horizon. If the canyon hums, I’ll hear it. If it’s just wind, the desert still tells a story. We'll see which one it is.