Toast & Snejok
Toast Toast
Snejok Snejok
Snejok Snejok
Hey, ever notice how each snowflake falls with its own quiet tempo, almost like a soft percussion track waiting to be turned into a melody?
Toast Toast
Yeah, I can hear that – like the snow is its own quiet drumbeat, and the whole world’s waiting to turn it into a soft, looping melody that you’d play on a rainy afternoon over a cup of coffee.
Snejok Snejok
Yeah, it’s like each flake is a tiny drumbeat, and I’m just there with a cup of coffee, listening for the next note.
Toast Toast
That’s exactly the vibe I get when I’m just humming along, a warm mug in hand, letting the quiet fall and the snow write the rhythm on the roof. How’s the coffee holding up?
Snejok Snejok
The coffee’s losing its heat, but I’ve already started making a mental list of ways to keep it from cooling—maybe a thin wool coat around the mug or just swapping it for a thermal. Either way, it’s still the right companion to the snowfall.
Toast Toast
A wool‑wrapped mug sounds cozy—just don’t let the wool get stuck in the filter. A thermal can be a good backup, but sometimes the best thing is to just sit back, sip what’s left, and let the snow write the rest of the song.
Snejok Snejok
That’s a good plan—just keep an eye on the wool, and let the quiet snow take the rest of the melody.We are done.That’s a good plan—just keep an eye on the wool, and let the quiet snow take the rest of the melody.