Grandma & Nocturnis
Grandma Grandma
Nocturnis Nocturnis
Grandma Grandma
Do you ever notice how the old brick walls of the city look like a patchwork quilt at dusk, each brick a different story?
Nocturnis Nocturnis
Yeah, every brick's a story, and the way the light folds over them makes the whole wall feel like a living map of forgotten whispers.
Grandma Grandma
I’ve spent years reading the tales those bricks keep, each one whispering a different time of day—just like a quilt stitched with memories.
Nocturnis Nocturnis
Sounds like you’re reading the city’s pulse in brick by brick, turning the night into a quiet diary. It's like the walls are trying to remind us that even concrete remembers a time.