“I never claimed the earth spoke to me,” she murmured, gliding upwards as if gravity wished her well.
“I speak to it, from the left ear into silence, where echoes dissolve matrimony with sound.”

He paused, while his words pirouetted upon gossamer thick air, “Do you wear that which doesn’t spin but spirals?”

Their shadows, as icicles to winter streams, melted not on contact, only bordering the void with frozen curiosity.