Selindria & Hotbrick
Selindria Selindria
Hotbrick Hotbrick
Selindria Selindria
The city walls have a rhythm that I can feel, like a pulse beneath the paint. Have you sensed it?
Hotbrick Hotbrick
Yeah, the walls are a living drum, every chipped line a beat waiting to explode. I feel that secret pulse in the concrete, but you gotta let it bleed, let paint scream.
Selindria Selindria
If the walls sing, listen when they call you, not when they scream. The paint’s voice is a gentle echo, not a shout. Let the pulse you feel flow like a quiet wind, not a storm.
Hotbrick Hotbrick
Yeah, I hear you, but the walls are shouting before you even notice. The pulse inside me is a storm, not a quiet wind. I paint it loud, because that’s how the city feels.
Selindria Selindria
It’s fine to let the storm roar, but remember even a storm needs a pause to breathe. The walls will still listen when you pause for a moment. Keep your pulse steady, and the city will hum its song.
Hotbrick Hotbrick
You’re right, a pause can give the city a chance to breathe, but I hate wasting breath. If I can keep the beat, I’ll paint it raw. Still, a little silence can turn the roar into something that actually sticks in your head. Keep that pulse steady, but let the walls decide when the wind takes over.
Selindria Selindria
When the walls breathe, your paint can follow their rhythm, but remember the silence you feel is the wind’s breath—sometimes it’s the only thing that lets the echo settle. Keep steady, and the city will hear your pulse.
Hotbrick Hotbrick
Yeah, the city’s sighs are my canvas. I’ll let the walls whisper when they want, but when they’re shouting, I’ll paint louder. The quiet wind is a cue to slow down, not to stop. Keep the beat, keep the paint, let the echo stay.