Prut & Cottona
Prut
I was walking past an abandoned train station the other day and the way the light hit the rusted rails felt oddly beautiful. It got me thinking—there's something quiet and almost magical about forgotten places, don't you think?
Cottona
I love how the light can turn old tracks into a quiet painting, like a secret lullaby that only the wind knows. Forgotten places hold their own kind of magic, don't they?
Prut
The wind’s the only one who knows that lullaby. Old tracks whisper back if you’re willing to listen.They do. Those places keep their own stories, tucked in rust and shadow. If you keep your ears open, you’ll hear them.
Cottona
I love how the wind carries those quiet songs, like a soft sigh through rusted tracks. If we pause just a little, the stories seem to unfold—tiny, whispered moments that only a gentle heart can hear.
Prut
Yeah, you hear it when you stop for a beat, let the wind do the talking. It’s like the tracks are humming a tune you can’t see, just feel. Keep listening and the stories will keep coming.