Evening. A little spot by the field of radio towers. Three stools, a thermos of tea, and some remarkable stories gathered by the trio over the week.

It seems that this, of all things, is where they finally found some kind of stability — in a world that keeps threatening to come apart. Sometimes it's hard to tell what's a dream and what isn't. Derealization? Perhaps. But Iv, Vi, and Vianne have noticed a strange thing: near the radio towers, beneath their hum, dreams seem to recede. Turns out, they're not too fond of monotony.

And you know, since you can hear us — that means the signal's been caught. Once a week, come evening, we gather here and tell each other what's changed, what's new, what was dreamed — the kind of thing you're afraid to forget. Any story will do — big ones, tiny ones, ours and yours. Drawings, tales, entire worlds — all of it counts. Because when you share something, the world holds together just a little better.

We used to simply post drawings into the feed. Now this space has a place — right here. A field, a hum, evening gatherings you can just stop by and listen to.