The heart beats a metronome of secrets, untold and unwritten. Here, you find skewed lines of sound where order never rests. In silence, there lies a cacophony of emotions, each a small universe imploding softly under its own weight. A score, without notes...
...maps the void of your inner space. Emotion doesn't align here. It's a gravity well imploding on itself quietly, drawing in threads of past accents. The echo of yesterday drifts softly, forgotten by everyone, yet remembered by the hollow spaces between stars.