Within the polished confines of a childhood mirror, dark whispers solidified into spectral forms, leaving their traces in half-remembered tales.
“She only visits at dusk, wearing threads sewn from forgotten dreams.”
“Nothing is ever erased in shadows; it crouches just beyond clarity.”
In the corners of forgotten towns, where the air is thick with ambiguity, one might just catch a reflection: a shimmering portal of the child they left behind intertwined with the remnant fantasies unfurling.
Shadows Fall | Dust and GlassClick and reveal the borrowed whispers:
“Memory is the echo; solitude, the reverberation.”