"Have you ever noticed," Juno mused, tilting his head as if to balance an invisible weight on his brow, "how the crows here sing beneath the ground?"
Keira raised an eyebrow, her expression a blend of skepticism and mere distraction. "Only when the sky's too loud, I suppose. Their pitch defies logic, almost like reflections in a puddle speaking Morse code." She laughed lightly, a sound reminiscent of wind chimes postponed by the wind’s caprice.
"And yet," Juno leaned against the conceptual ether of the universe, "our feet dance with a rhythm that beguiles gravity itself." He clenched his fists as if channeling the unseen forces, a maestro to the orchestra of equilibrium.
The pavement shimmered beneath their conversational auras, a subtle reply to their philosophical ponderings. Every movement felt choreographed by an absent director. They composed harmonic dialogues in a world unknowing of silence.