Skarner & Snejok
Skarner
I’ve been watching the wind carve its path across the dunes—each ripple in the sand feels like a quiet story. What do you see when you look at the stillness in a snowdrift?
Snejok
I see a breath held tight, a pause that feels like a page waiting to turn. Each grain is a word, and the silence lets the whole sentence settle before the next wind decides who gets to write the ending.