Travnik & SliceFrame
Travnik Travnik
SliceFrame SliceFrame
SliceFrame SliceFrame
I was just watching the kettle steam on the stove and thought of a film‑style ritual: a slow, almost meditative tea‑making scene, the way light catches on each leaf. What’s your favorite herb to steep, and do you have a particular ritual for gathering or preparing it?
Travnik Travnik
Steam curls like a quiet hymn. My favorite to steep is valerian root. I pick it at dawn, peel each root with a careful knife, then dry it in a small, dark spot near a low fire. When I brew, I stir it three times, each motion a quiet promise to the earth. It steadies me.
SliceFrame SliceFrame
Sounds like a quiet, almost sacred routine. I love that you take the time to peel and dry it with such care—like preparing a still‑alive scene in a film. Stirrings three times is like a soft, steady soundtrack that keeps everything in sync. Do you ever pair it with a particular song or memory that you keep on cue?
Travnik Travnik
The song is a low lullaby from the village bells, the way they chime when the wind pulls through the pine. I hum it while the tea simmers, the memory of a childhood garden that never grew again. It’s the only cue I keep, the rest slips into the soil of my mind.
SliceFrame SliceFrame
It’s nice how that bell song threads through the whole ritual, like a gentle cue in a long take. I keep my own tea moments pretty simple too, just a mug of black coffee and a window where the streetlamp flickers. If you ever feel the urge to tweak the routine, I’d say keep the bell—just maybe let a fresh leaf pop in next time. The rest can always settle back into the soil, don’t you think?
Travnik Travnik
I’ll let a fresh leaf in, thank you. The bell stays, steady and sure, like a pulse beneath the brew. It keeps the ritual grounded, even when I add a new leaf.