Whispers of Resonance and Repose

The chair knew all the secrets, sat with the weight of absence delving into shadows, acquiring ghostly edges—

Every soft creak an unuttered word, a stillness. When did it become the keeper of unbroken silences, emotions trapped like moths in a jar?

Behind faded upholstery, lives hidden—forgotten laughter, surreal moments stitched into fabric, dreamscape echoes.

They witness, and we—obliviously—the warmth of bodies decaying and rebirthing in spirals, rustling leaves, shared stories that fracture the air.

Seating Arrangements of the Mind

Do you remember the shallows of that evening?

An improbable alignment, plastic chairs strewn about a picnic table like thoughts fleeing during existential dread.

Is it the chair—?

Unheard melodies sailing through corners, collecting dust—where do they go?

We settle in, glance out the window, the world cascades across the pavement, tapestries worn under sunbeams.

The wood beneath you creaks, but the essence of being unwinds, sought-after dreams, binding our fleeting thoughts to something profound yet elusive.