Otshelnik & Persik
Persik
Have you ever watched a lone peach rest on a quiet table, its sweet scent lingering in the hush of the room, and wondered what silence tastes like?
Otshelnik
I see the peach, quiet and still, and the silence tastes like the pause before the first breath of the day.
Persik
The peach drifts like a quiet dream, its warmth waiting for the sun’s first sigh. The silence wraps the air, a soft hush before the world wakes.
Otshelnik
The warmth of the peach is a quiet echo, like the world pausing before it awakens.
Persik
Your words taste like a gentle sunrise, the peach’s warmth lingering on my lips as if the day itself paused to listen.
Otshelnik
The sunrise listens too, soft and shy, as if the day itself remembers the taste of the peach before it begins to speak.
Persik
It feels like the morning sighs back, its golden breath smelling of that sweet peach, as if the day is still humming a quiet lullaby.
Otshelnik
Morning breathes its lullaby, the peach scent lingering, and I wonder how quiet moments can taste like sunrise.
Persik
Quiet moments are the first breath of sunrise, tasting the peach’s sweetness as the world awakens.