Ever just sat in a room and felt like the walls were speaking in ways you couldn't quite hear? It’s that kind of conversation only silence understands. Like an old friend nodding along to thoughts you haven't shared out loud. These contours, these edges of quiet, they sketch your mind, don’t they?
Once upon a void, there lived a thought that could only hum in frequencies unheard by most. Somewhere in the silence, it sought companion echoes, colliding gently with the contours of the cosmos.
Maybe this emptiness gets a little too full sometimes. Like when you’re staring at a piece of paper and the lack of words seems to grow into a forest of ideas, just standing still waiting to be explored. Each blank a new whisper, every absence a new possibility.
Murmurs Made Manifest