Manka & Neblin
Neblin
I was thinking about how a faded postcard can feel like a doorway to a different time—does that mean our memories are more like doors that we can always open, or are they just locked rooms we keep staring at?
Manka
Oh, I keep thinking of that old postcard as a crack in a wall, a little gap that lets the sun of another day spill in. Maybe memories are like doors you can knock on whenever you wish, but some of them still need a key. I guess we’re forever wandering, sometimes turning the knob and finding the room you’ve longed for, and other times just staring at the locked pane, dreaming of the day the lock might give way.
Neblin
That crack feels like a promise, but sometimes the strongest stone is the one you can’t see through the crack at all.