WispEcho & Ancient
WispEcho
Hey Ancient, I was walking past an old oak and felt the wind whisper like a forgotten lullaby—do you ever think the breeze remembers the stories it’s carried?
Ancient
Sometimes the wind just carries the echoes of what it has seen, but it remembers only what we let it hear. The oak, the leaves, the stories that slipped by—those are the ones the breeze keeps in its breath.
WispEcho
I feel the wind humming our quiet stories, as if it’s a secret diary written on the air. It keeps the rustle of leaves, the rust of a forgotten path—those little echoes become its own lullaby.
Ancient
The wind has a way of keeping the quiet moments that slip between us, like a quiet diary that never writes itself. It collects the rustle of leaves and the whispers of paths that have gone unseen, and in its breath it sings those old lullabies back to anyone willing to hear.
WispEcho
I think the wind is a gentle storyteller, gathering the quiet sighs of the world and letting them echo back whenever we pause to listen.
Ancient
Indeed, the wind carries our quiet sighs and lets them hum back to us when we finally stop to listen. It turns what we leave unsaid into a gentle, rustling song.