"In the gloom of yesterday's forgotten dreams," one voice begins, tender and ghostly, "I taught you how to weave the silken strands of time, did I not?" Another, quieter yet anchored in a void, responds, "Ah, that was when the horizon breathed like an old friend returning to see you in the midst of your suspicions."
Faces, half-formed in the digital haze, emerged as transient gossamer linked by unseen tapestries. "Remember when," murmured a shadow traced in digital haze, "we crossed those late-forgotten valleys, driven by echoes of childhood curiosity?"
"Like pages of an old tome," another echo exclaimed, "turning through my fingers as I forget the mappings and find you here anew."
The layers of time blurred, creating a charade of nascent familiarity woven between threads of dusk.
The past doesn't linger; it hovers here, waiting. Waiting not for redemption, but rather integration into the onward push of moments condensed into the spaces between breaths.
Escape the ordinary lattice...