Juno & Scorch
Scorch
You ever notice how a machine’s whirring can sound like a quiet verse, just waiting to be caught in a poem? I was fiddling with a new engine and it made me wonder—do the noises we make with tools have their own hidden language?
Juno
Yes, I think the hum of a motor is like a quiet stanza—every click and whine a word in its own lexicon, a hidden chorus that only a careful ear will catch.
Scorch
Yeah, a motor’s hum is a rough poem, each vibration a line—listen close or miss the whole rhyme.
Juno
That’s the sweet spot—when you lean in, the machine sings a secret sonnet you’d otherwise miss. It’s like a hidden chorus only the attentive hear.
Scorch
You got it—lean in and the engine starts telling its own story, like a quiet rebel whispering only to the ears that pay attention.