THE CHIRPY TWINS
Lucinda and Jacinda di LucaLomaLinda
Travellers, Observers, Rhyme-weaving chroniclers of the skies
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Few know where they came from, or why they speak in verse.
But wherever rare birds flicker and vanish, you’ll likely find Lucinda and Jacinda close behind, notebooks in hand.
Known collectively as the Chirpy Twins, they navigate the world with an effortless blend of curiosity and composure, dressed in silks, their hair impeccably coiffed.
The Twins travel not to explain the world, but to feel its patterns, to notice what is vanishing, and to sketch it down before it disappears.
They follow birds—not merely for their elegance or rarity, but because something about a bird in motion speaks to the mystery they’re always chasing.
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“Be nothing,” a whisper once told them,
“And you just might find everything.”
FROM THE CHIRPY TWINS' JOURNAL
A lyrical interlude
Extract 1: The Departure
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They packed up their satchels with nonsense and thread,
With poems half-written and books never read,
They followed the call of the invisible bird—
(Or was it a whisper? A thought? Or a word?)
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“Be nothing,” it said, “and you’ll glimpse the divine.”
So off they both flew without drawing a line.
Not seeking to lead, nor longing to shine—
Just dancing through dust like a mystical sign.
Extract 2: The Desert of Riddles
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They came to a desert where logic had drowned,
Where peacocks wore riddles and owls made the sound
Of clocks running backwards, of hearts turned to clay—
Yet still, through the chaos, they learned how to stay.
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They scribbled down dreams in a nine-scripted tongue,
Spoke verses to beetles, and danced with the young.
“The world is a mirror,” said Jacinda with grace—
“And ours is the nose pressed up close to its face.”
Extract 3: The Silence of Not-Knowing
🕊️ Read Their Journal Entries →-
They reached a green silence where nothing was named,
Where birds bore no titles, and no one was blamed.
The wind turned their notes into spirals of light—
They read what was written, but not what they’d write.
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For wisdom, they learned, is a feather too wide:
It brushes you once, then it floats off to hide.
“We’ll never know all,” whispered Lucinda, bemused,
“But we’ll follow the questions, sincerely confused.”