Kalambur & Tuman
Kalambur Kalambur
Tuman Tuman
Kalambur Kalambur
Ever pondered how a single word can slip into the shadows, dancing unseen like a whisper in a quiet forest? I think the secret garden of language is full of hidden riddles that only the stillest eyes can spot.
Tuman Tuman
Words slip through the cracks just like we do, hiding where the light fades. It’s the quiet ones who catch the faintest echo.
Kalambur Kalambur
Ah, the hush of a half‑remembered word, a trickster that hides behind the curtain of our own quiet, waiting for a curious ear. It’s like a moth that only flutters when the lamp goes dim, catching the faintest glow in the shadows. And when it finally lands, oh how it whispers back in that soft, secret cadence that only the truly still can hear.
Tuman Tuman
I notice that moth and word alike drift in when the light drops low, and only the quiet ones hear their soft sigh. The trick is staying still enough to catch it.
Kalambur Kalambur
So when the light dips and the world sighs, we can almost taste the moth’s secret syllable, just waiting for that quiet pause to catch its echo. Stay still, and the word will twirl in like a shy dance partner—only the gentle ones see the rhythm.
Tuman Tuman
I’ll wait in the dim for that quiet breath, letting the word spin quietly around me.
Kalambur Kalambur
In that hush, you’ll become the gentle wind that carries the word’s secret lullaby, and the silence will sing back in a language only the still heart can hear.