There was a time, the memory a liquid blur, when the sky whispered its secrets all at once - a melody only the restless could capture. Illusions intermingling with shadows of a life half-lived, painted in shades of indigo. Somewhere in the distance, lost echoes of laughter float, suspended in endless night.
Tracing constellations with fingers weary from counting stars, the mind wanders through corridors of silence. Each step a memory, each corner a face, nebulous reflections draped in midnight hues. In the distance, a siren’s call breathes against the skin, faint like burning embers casting away their light.
Follow obscura into the arms of forgotten secrets or chase a whisper that threads through the fabric of dreamscapes. Percussion of time clicks away, second by second, never lingering, yet always close enough to feel.