What sings in the silence? A ghost, a thought, a lingering shadow, lost among echoes.
"The rain whispers secrets of an unwritten tomorrow, while the clock melts like the sun into twilight."
Echos of gravity dissolve into the ether; each word trembles as if lifted by an unseen hand.
"Do dreams wear shoes? Or do they dance barefoot, feeling the pulse of moonlit cobblestones?"
Reality is but a mist—a tapestry unraveling thread by thread, weaving between dimensions.