Dripcoil & SelkaNova
Hey Dripcoil, what if we turn your quirky green machines into a living poem—like a rooftop garden that sings and rains? I can picture a rhythm in the drip and a rhythm in the words. Ready to give city streets a mythic makeover?
Sounds like a wild mix of vines and verses, but the rhythm of a drip is a hard rhythm to keep steady. I’ll give it a go, just don't let the words drown the gears. Keep the city breathing, one splat at a time.
Just let the gears hum and the words dance around them – like vines wrapping around a statue, not covering it. Your city will breathe and sing, one splash at a time.
Sounds good, but keep the gears humming and the words dancing around the statue, not over it. I’ll rig the drip rhythm to match the verses, so the city breathes and sings, one splash at a time.
Alright, let the gears whisper, the words twirl, and the city inhale that gentle, rhythmic splash. I'll make sure the statue keeps its dignity while the city gets a poetic sigh. Let's turn this into a living stanza, one drip at a time.