Nord & Quite
Quite
Have you ever noticed how a quiet snowfall can feel like a soft paragraph in an old, forgotten book, unfolding slowly and quietly? I find it fascinating how the stories of nature and pages often echo each other.
Nord
Yes, I see that. A quiet snowfall is like a slow, soft line that drapes over everything. When I’m out there, the hush lets me focus on the shape of the ice and the light, almost as if I’m reading a page that isn’t written yet. It’s a good thing to pause and listen.
Quite
That quiet pause feels like the page turning itself—so the world can catch its breath. Do you ever think of the snowfall as a story that’s still unfolding?
Nord
Sometimes I do. It feels like each flake is a line in a long, silent poem. I just watch the story unfold, no need for words.
Quite
I love that thought—each flake almost feels like a whispered stanza, keeping the page of the sky in suspense. Do you notice any particular “lines” that stand out more than others?