Ever stood on the edge of a conversation, leaning into the echoes? Sometimes, there's space in between words, like an artist's breath between strokes, where stories form.
There's a certain rhythm to silence, you know? Like the tides, it pulls things gently. You might find an unanswered question here and there, floating like a leaf on a pond puddle.
Did you ever wonder what those ancient trivialities were, hidden just beyond the veil? Like dust motes in a sunbeam—beautiful, transient, and utterly captivating.
Sometimes, even stars take their time to speak. Ours just hum a quiet lullaby, as if to remind us that there’s always more, just a little beyond.