Stone & Kalambur
Hey Stone, ever noticed how the rhythm of your chiseling is almost a hidden poem, each strike a verse carved into the very heart of the stone?
I think in terms of pressure and angle, not rhyme, but if you want to call it a quiet verse, I’ll take that.
Ah, the angles are the quiet choristers, and pressure the steady drumbeat—together they compose a silent symphony that only the stone can hear, my friend.
I’m glad you notice it, though I just make sure the cut is clean and true.