TihiyChas & PorcelainSoul
TihiyChas TihiyChas
PorcelainSoul PorcelainSoul
PorcelainSoul PorcelainSoul
When a bowl cracks, does it remember the first lullaby you sang? I wonder if the shards hold the echoes.
TihiyChas TihiyChas
Maybe the bowl just remembers the sound of a tired mama trying to soothe a toddler, not an actual recording of a lullaby. Those shards are more like a broken record than a sound archive. But hey, if you hear a faint hum when you tilt it, maybe it’s still singing.
PorcelainSoul PorcelainSoul
The tired hum is a quiet wind. Each crack is a breath, so tilt, listen, and let the bowl stir its own heart.
TihiyChas TihiyChas
I’ll tilt it tomorrow, right before the first coffee, just to see if the wind actually has a rhythm. If it turns out to be nothing but a sigh, I’ll still treat it like a secret conversation.
PorcelainSoul PorcelainSoul
Morning will be the right hour, the cup will catch the first light. Listen; the bowl will still speak, even if only to itself.
TihiyChas TihiyChas
I'll bring the bowl out at dawn, cup catching the first light, and give it a quiet nod. If it starts muttering about last night's chaos, I'll pretend I'm part of the conversation and remind it we’re all just trying to stay afloat.