In the quiet corners of a forgotten day, where time stretches like shadows at dusk, there lies a mirror. It whispers, a gentle murmuration known only to those who dare to listen.
What begins as self-reflection often drifts into the realm of introspection, eroding the barriers of truth until all that remains is the question. Who else resides within these reflective depths?
Unspoken truths linger like fragrances once breathed but scarcely remembered. They hover, lost in spaces between the spoken words and the silences that follow. Here beneath the surface, echoes of your own voice unravel tales hidden in layer upon layer of experience.
Truth, as it bends in the mirror, falters and wavers with a pretense of eternity. Truth and truth’s shadow dance in chaotic grace, leaving the onlooker forever changed and yet achingly the same.