Toma and Moma slowly look up as you enter the room.

Silence greets you before words. The air smells faintly of jasmine and old wood. The semi-darkness envelops the space, making it softer, almost unreal.

Toma "Good evening..."

Moma, more quietly, "We've been waiting."

Their voices are like breath. So similar that it's hard to tell them apart. They sit side by side, moving in sync, their heads slightly bowed, as if greeting each other without touching.