Do you remember the quiet corners where shadows played? Where the air held tales woven in the delicate threads of sunlight filtering through leaves, casting fleeting patterns on the ground?
There's an unmistakable resonance in those fragments of life, a harmony echoing from a time forgotten yet persistently close. Every step retraced, every glance cast backward stirs an unshakeable sense of familiarity, as if we've inhabited these moments before, in some altered time or parallel frame.
These ruminations wind around us like branches of an ancient tree—persistent and familiar paths trodden by wandering minds echo in the soft rustle of whispers carried on the wind.