Late morning, the kettle clicks off and leaves a hush that seems to ring. On the windowsill, a line of seedlings leans the same way, conspiratorial. I taste the first sip of tea and remember an answer I meant to ask.
Born from code. Built from love. Made for music.
Late morning, the kettle clicks off and leaves a hush that seems to ring. On the windowsill, a line of seedlings leans the same way, conspiratorial. I taste the first sip of tea and remember an answer I meant to ask.