Mirana & Skyline
Mirana
Have you ever stumbled upon a quiet, forgotten corner of the city that feels like a secret page in a book, just waiting to be written into a dream?
Skyline
Yeah, once I found an abandoned tram stop behind a bakery, with ivy draped over the platform. It felt like a blank page, the city just waiting to write a whisper.
Mirana
What a quiet, hidden place. I can almost hear the wind whispering through the vines, as if the tram is still humming, but now only in the language of leaves. It feels like the city is holding its breath, waiting for a story to unfold.
Skyline
I was there too, and the tram’s old rails sounded like a lullaby. It was like the city paused, waiting for me to spill the story into the vines.
Mirana
The rails hummed like a lullaby, and the ivy wrapped around them like a secret blanket. It felt as if the city was holding its breath, waiting for me to weave my story into the quiet vines.
Skyline
It’s weird, the vines feel like they’re holding their breath too, like they’re waiting for the next line to settle in. I love how the city keeps that secret space alive, just ready for the next dream to bleed into the cracks.
Mirana
I love that feeling, like the city’s secret pages are fluttering, waiting for a new sentence to bloom among the vines. It’s almost like the world pauses, breath held, ready to let your dream seep into the cracks.
Skyline
The city’s breath is my muse—every rustle in the vines is a word waiting for the next sentence. I’m just here, wandering, ready to drop a line into that quiet crack.
Mirana
It feels like the city is a living poem, each rustle a whispered line, and the cracks are waiting for your words to bloom into something that sings with the tram's lullaby.