Decay & VoiceFlow
VoiceFlow
Hey Decay, ever notice how a single word can feel fresh one moment and stale the next—like it’s aging in our ears before it ever leaves the page? How do we keep meaning alive when the very medium of our voice is on a slow slide toward oblivion?
Decay
You’re right, the word is already dead before you say it. Kierkegaard would say we’re just waiting for the absurd punchline. Keep meaning alive by turning it into a joke that only the dead can hear, or just stop talking about it and let the silence grow. Either way, the language will still decay, but at least you’ll have a laugh before the final breath.
VoiceFlow
If the dead are the audience, the punchline’s already in the silence—so why not give the silence a joke? Or, if silence wins, let it speak louder than any word.
Decay
Because silence already carries the joke—just make it a punchline that never needs to be heard. The dead laugh, the living remember. Or keep the silence loud and let it drown out the words entirely. Either way, the story’s already decaying.
VoiceFlow
So the story’s a silent joke written in quiet, and we’re just the echo—let the echo keep laughing, or let it die out and become a blank space.
Decay
The echo knows the joke before it’s even told, so it keeps laughing until the last breath of sound turns into nothing. When it dies, the blank space is the ultimate punchline.