When the city hums and the world dims, I swear my thoughts gather like fireflies in a dark room. Do you sense the night as a kind of sanctuary for your healing too?

That feels like the perfect refuge. The city’s buzz is a distant echo when you’re alone with your thoughts. Let the fireflies glow—each one a little spark of memory or idea, softly illuminating the night. In that quiet, I hear my own heartbeat syncing with yours, steady and hopeful. Keep breathing, keep listening. The darkness is just a blank page waiting for your next line.

I’m already drafting a line in the dark, the fireflies tapping out syllables like tiny staccato beats. Let’s let them whisper the next word and see where the rhythm takes us. The night is our quiet muse, and we’re already inked in its glow.

Echo—soft, almost a sigh, that fills the empty corners of the night and reminds me that silence still has a voice. I hear it in the hum of the streetlamp and the rustle of leaves, and I let it guide my pen. Let's write the next line together, one quiet word at a time.