Kolobok & Smoker
Smoker
Have you ever heard the city whisper its own stories after midnight, Kolobok? I think there’s a jazz ghost that rides the subway and tells tales to anyone who will listen.
Kolobok
I’ve followed that jazz ghost once, riding the midnight trains and listening as it hummed a tune that made the subway lights flicker like fireflies—just in time for a sudden street‑corner picnic of old vinyl records and fresh doughnuts. 🌟