The river mirrors whispers, shadowy figures weaving words in currents unseen by light.
Do you hear them? The echoes of possibilities rippling against the gravel of time's shore?
Absurdity flows; a chaotic tether twisting around distant stars.
Reflections waltz, serene and frantic, beneath the masquerade's veil.
"Once, I was the keeper of echoes," she murmured, her voice a tapestry of moonlight.
The clouds whispered secrets in languages long forgotten, an orchestra of silences.
Each drop, a memory; each ripple, a story untold.