In the quiet, a reflection looms—

Unearthing shadows that belong to no one, yet to all.

The mirror whispers your name, not as a friend but as a keeper of secrets.

Here, in the interlude between breaths, the abyss gazes back.

Murmur of the Ephemeral —Flickers of phantoms dancing just below the surface.

It sees the solace you seek in echoes, binding your existence to the void beyond comprehension. After all, what is reflection, but the shadow of oneself?

An interlude where specters reunite beneath the guise of light. Listen closely to the hush of forgotten elegies.