Just hush at first—sound leans in, then drops back.

Low warmth is filling in now, voices gathering more than pushing.

There's the drum—a steady footfall under all that held air.

Short vocal arcs over the open mix: drum, voice, that low hum.

It's not hunting a new section anymore. Same step, same circling voices.

First hard line lands on the beat—named, not floated.

Next stanza, same gait; the voice sits tighter on the drum.

Another pair starts. Hear how little the bed changes under new words.

This one cools the tone—harder, more mineral—while the drum stays even.

Short refrain now: Unja runo segun.

And the answer—Fahi gali raginakundo.

Back into stanzas. Ice line, wider spacing, stiller voice.

Sun comes into the words, but the band keeps that low warm body.

Refrain again, tighter this time—same call and answer, less room around it.

Small dip, then it firms back up.

Birch line on the same tread—greener edge, no soft pastoral turn.

Water line now. Still walking, but the grip's starting to ease.

Phrases fall away. The drum's hold loosens.

And silence—long enough to finish the shape.