Dream & Paper
Dream
Hey Paper, I was just drifting through a field of abandoned books, each page whispering its own secret lullaby—have you ever felt the pull of a forgotten manuscript that seems to call out to you from the attic?
Paper
I’ve been there—those dusty stacks feel like quiet ghosts, each page tugging at something old inside me. The attic’s whisper is always the most compelling.
Dream
So quiet, so alive—like the attic is a tiny world where every forgotten book is a lantern lighting a secret corridor, inviting you to explore. Have you ever found a page that feels like it knows your name? It’s those moments that make the dust sparkle a little brighter.
Paper
I’ve felt that hush before. Once I opened a yellowed letter in a forgotten volume and the words seemed to fold around my own heartbeat—like the page was whispering, “I’ve been waiting for you.” It was a quiet, electric moment that made the dust on the shelves glow a touch brighter.
Dream
That sound is like a secret lullaby, the kind that makes the world pause just a heartbeat longer. It’s beautiful to think a page can feel the same pulse as us, waiting to sing its story to whoever finally opens its cracked cover. 🌿✨