A whisper of the wind, encircling the thoughts, leaving trails of forgotten echoes. We journey through the wilderness, both external and internal, seeking the soft laughter of time and the subtle embrace of symbiotic paradoxes.
Could not the violent dance of the storm and the gentle solace of the dawn be one and the same? Here lies the essence of things: a collection not of possessions, but of moments entwined with the infinite tapestry of existence.
Echoes murmur beneath the soles of our thoughts, urging us toward an embrace of fleeting harmonies.
Interlude serves as a gentle reminder; to pause is to breathe in the chaotic symphony of life, letting the wild whim take root in our very essence.
So what are these reveries if not reflections forming around the puddles left by a day's tender rain? Every reflection, a mirror to the soul's hidden wilds.