March 25, 1925.
In the heart of a bustling metropolis, a single moment has escaped the clutches of time. On Park Avenue, a shadow plays its role, fleeting and unnoticed, across the sun-bleached faces of passersby engaged in their own narratives. The shadow, a remnant of an unnamed soul, tells a story of its own. Photographic snapshots of this ephemeral event are absent, yet the witness to these scenes was neither seen nor heard, only felt.
Denizens observe the shadow, transfixed, a silent specter unbeknownst to them who spoke not a word yet communicated volumes. Their eyes followed its path, though it left no imprint, a transient echo of a forgotten dialogue.
April 13, 1926.
Somewhere in the gilded halls of the old theatre, the air reverberates with the echoes of a tango. The performance, unseen, lacks the applause of the audience, caught in a reverie between reality and dream. They remember the dance without seeing it, a visceral memory conveyed through motion and silence. The dancer's figure, lithe and shadowy, weaves between the rows of empty seats like a specter seeking its past.
The stories above, chronicled as if through a lens of silence, await continuation. Perhaps in reminiscences, or within the whispers of forgotten stories.