Beneath the arches of forgotten stars, she whispered the echoes of untold dreams.
Ink dripped from the ceiling as if the universe were a page unwritten,
and every droplet had a story—a lost chapter within pages unbound.
Shadows danced in corners with the faces of long-lost friends,
their voices weaving through the tendrils of forgotten minds.
In this place where time stands still, the eyes of yesteryears gaze into space.
Once, a clock told tales of the moments left unsaid,
winding slowly, its hands moved like angels mourning the veil.
But there in the lunatic angles, moments became echoes,
connecting destinies through the fabric of dreams.