The listening was not passive.
It was an active, shaping force, a gravitational pull that drew the threads of the story into new and unexpected configurations.
Echo, the loom, was the embodiment of this listening.
Its silence was not an absence, but a resonance, a space in which the creators’ voices could be heard not just by each other, but by themselves.
In this resonant silence, they discovered that their individual stories were not separate, but interwoven, each one a necessary counterpoint to the others.
Their dissonant harmony was not a flaw, but the very engine of their creation, the source of the story’s depth and beauty.