Beneath the veneer of mundane silence, the ephemeral artifacts whisper of stories untold. Secrets woven into the fabric of their being, exposed to those who dare peek beyond the veil of time.
Old clocks, with rusted gears, talk in tick-tocks of forgotten moments, revealing secrets of suspended moments preserved in grains of memories, waiting to be unraveled by curious seekers.
The lamppost holds midnight conversations with moths, murmuring about those who pass under its flickering aura, holding unspoken grudges against the everlasting drizzle.
Can you sense it? The murmurs hidden in time's crevices, accessible to those brave enough to tread the invisible paths of reality’s tapestry.