The first epoch, veiled in whispers, arrived silently. Streets empty, the echoes of forgotten conversations lingered in corners, fading like autumn leaves.
In the stillness, we learned to listen to the spaces between words, to understand the language of shadows.
Time rustled past like a cautious friend. Seasons changed, unnoticed, under the watch of unseen stars. The world breathed, and we followed its rhythm.
Few noticed the shifts, the subtle course corrections of life itself.
Another era turned, marked by the gentle hum of hidden truths. We became architects of our own solitude, constructing fortresses of quietude.
Yet, in the silence, we found voices—ghostly, persistent, unyielding.
The unseen epochs linger in memory, and in the corners of our minds, specters that shape the tangible world.