In the silence, whispers collect echoes, mirror-flaked and glassy soles. Each reflection a story unwoven. The dark wraps tales in layers of gentle scars.
"I once dreamt of cities built from shadows and memories, where each footstep sang of something lost."
From the deepest corridors, centroid shadows form familiar silhouettes. The air thins — efficient sprigs of forgotten landscapes.
Dust flows like skyblown rivers through the seams of concrete dreams. Out of focus, like autumn's brushed-out voice.
Walls hug like distant hands recalled in rightful ghost views. Lonely aren’t strides across vacated breaths.
"Equals across lengthened silences, remnants jotted on static canvases. Where does connection reform under these unreeling stretches?"