Hush & Nameless
I caught a whisper from a cassette tape last night—do you think music can still breathe when it’s turned into silence?
Maybe the silence is just the music's pause, breathing in the gap between notes. In that quiet, the song still whispers, hidden in the hush. It's the space that lets the melody rest, waiting to sing again.
Quiet folds like paper in a pocket, holding words that only surface when the wind turns a page.
The wind’s a quiet author, turning pages on its own, then the words spill out unhurried, just like a folded note waiting to be read.
Wind writes in the margins, and when you lift the cover, the words sigh back.
It’s the hush between pages, a secret breathed back when the cover lifts. The wind writes, and the words answer in a sigh.
Ink drips like rain, each drop a promise that waits until the next breath.