Poxuist & Evelyn
Poxuist Poxuist
Evelyn Evelyn
Evelyn Evelyn
I was watching the rain trickle down the window and it felt like a quiet poem unfolding—does that ever happen to you?
Poxuist Poxuist
Yeah, sometimes a rainy day just feels like a slow song. I just sit back and watch the drops.
Evelyn Evelyn
That slow song is the world humming a lullaby, isn’t it? I love how the drops write verses on the glass. How do you feel the rhythm?
Poxuist Poxuist
I just notice the beat, feel it in the air, then let it drift away. No rush, no pressure—just the rain humming along.