Fade in. The sun hangs low, a muted orb casting long shadows. A figure stands alone,
silhouetted against the horizon, pondering the weight of the unseen, the quiet inquiries
that echo in the recess of forgotten time.
Resolutions are sought in the echo of
heartbeats, silent yet resounding.
Intertitles flicker like dying embers: "What is the color of silence?" The question hangs,
suspended like a whispered ghost. She walks among the shadows, her silhouette tracing
stories only the moon knows.
An unanswered symphony plays, unseen notes drifting on the
breeze.
In another time, another place. The rain gently taps the window. Outside, a world of color,
yet inside, sepia tones reign. He stands before the mirror, searching for reflections that
do not belong to him.
Time unravels, a spool slipped from the hands of fate.