Underneath the polished surface, lies a tongue of splintered secrets, murmuring intimate truths of the room above. It has overheard countless confessions between the shoals and currents of unspoken words. Its own muted aging is highlighted by the silk of hidden truths beneath the lonely floor, laced within its wooden heart are dreams of past echoes, longing for resonance in the stillness it calls home.
Listen further...Inside this glinting pane, worlds collide. The mirror catches sunlight and shadows, blending whispered secrets of both the seen and unseen. Eager to speak, yet forever sealed, it cradles the damning reflection of truths unvoiced. The glass knows the sorrows etching into faces seen through its array, each faultline a conversation left hanging in air, suspended in crystalline prison.
Reflect more...In its slow, ruminating ticks, confessions bloom in the intervals of silence. It harbors regrets from moments forsaken in the rush of hands flying, keeping time for tales untold. Each chime resonates with the weight of spun memories, begging recounting in drowsy hours. But the clock, reticent and stoic, only keeps counting, burying its own secrets in the sandcastles of fleeting moments.
Count them...