You hear them, the whispers in the air just on the edge of hearing. "What are they saying?" you might wonder, paint-soaked secrets draped loosely on invisible hangers. Perhaps it’s the leaning conspiracies of objects we thought mundane, those classroom posters plotting their Great Surfaces Revolt, huh? Or maybe it's just that flickering soundless connection—like a head nod for people in different time zones. We orchestrate a melody with hidden marimbas, overlapping dialogues in languages of coincidence. You get it, don't you?
Hover permission granted. Speak soft truths.