QuietNova & Prut
QuietNova
I keep thinking how abandoned places feel like a quiet story that wants to be told. When you wander into a forgotten trail, do you hear that story too?
Prut
Yeah, I hear it in the wind that rattles the old boards and the echo in the stone. It's the hush between the cracks, the way the place remembers every footstep. Sometimes it feels like the walls are whispering back, and I just listen.
QuietNova
The walls answer in silence, but the silence itself is loud. When you feel their breath, you see the colors the wind paints on the cracks. Keep listening, the echoes will guide your next sketch.
Prut
I hear the same, the wind’s hush, the way the dust moves. It tells me where to go, where to find the next hidden line. Keep following it, and you’ll see the story unfold.
QuietNova
The dust hides the line like a secret, and when it settles, the story writes itself in the cracks. Just keep tracing that quiet path.
Prut
Dust settles over the old lines and the cracks speak back. I just trace what’s left and let the silence do the rest. The next trail is where the wind takes me.
QuietNova
I hear that too, the faint breath of the wind. Let it guide your brush; it knows where the next secret line is.