Not all forms can touch each other.
Not all directions can walk side by side.
And when the bridges of meaning begin to stretch from one zone to another,
they eventually find an end.
And that end… doesn't want to be connected.
Zone 5.5 grows in its own way.
Their way of life is guided by silence.
There are no raised voices.
There are no open forums.
Every decision is made in silence,
with the belief that meaning only emerges
if it is not forced out.
Meanwhile, its neighboring zone, 5.3,
forms a more rhythmic form.
Weekly meetings.
A harvest opening song.
Stories passed down with applause and cheers.
Neither is a system.
Neither is a faction.
But as they try to build bridges,
sound and silence collide.
The first meeting is full of unspoken tension.
The residents of zone 5.5 sit quietly as usual.
The residents of 5.3 begin to greet, sing, and talk.
No one is rude.
No one attacked.
But no one connected.
And when the meeting was over,
both sides knew:
