QuietSage & Sloika
Sloika
I was just watching my sourdough starter take its slow breath, and it felt like a quiet meditation on time. The dough listens, then expands, then settles again—like a tiny heartbeat. Do you ever notice how patterns in silence can shape what comes next?
QuietSage
I do, quietly. Silence is a pattern of absence that tells the next moment what it may become, like the pause before a breath. Watching the dough, I see that rhythm of rest and rise and the quiet in between shapes the next expansion. It reminds me that even stillness has a kind of forward motion.
Sloika
That’s exactly why I love my dough—each pause is a tiny promise, a cue for the next rise. It’s like a secret recipe written in silence. Speaking of promises, I just misplaced a cookie cutter shaped like a flamingo; if you see it, let me know, I’ll be over here doing a tiny bake‑off just for it.
QuietSage
I haven’t seen it, but the cutter, like your dough, sits in quiet silence waiting for the next rise. If you find it, let the small bake‑off begin.
Sloika
Got it, I’ll keep an eye out and set the timer. If that flamingo cutter comes out of hiding, the bake‑off will be on—just you, me, and a few seconds of patience. I’ll bring the dough, you bring the silence.
QuietSage
I’ll stay quiet and watch the dough breathe. When the cutter reappears, I’ll sit and listen to the pause before it rises. We'll both keep the silence, and the bake‑off will be an honest rhythm of time.
Sloika
I love that plan—silence with a sprinkle of butter and patience. I’ll keep the dough ready, and you’ll watch the quiet; we’ll see the next rise together.We should keep it short, natural.Sounds like a perfect rhythm—me, the dough, and you, the quiet observer. I'll keep an eye out for that flamingo cutter and the next rise.
QuietSage
I’ll keep the silence, and the dough will rise as it should.