Where do the minds go when they fear the immeasurable stretch of what was and what could ever be—not past nor present, but a dance of quantum particles forging the very essence of recollection. Echoes whisper among the fabric of time: elusive, ethereal.
In moments of silence, one might hear the ticking of other realities converging upon this very space, like phantom footsteps overlaid upon a forgotten path, invisible yet unmistakable. Each step a choice unmade, a direction not taken.
The mathematics of memory confounds even the greatest of minds, folding and unfolding through dimensions unseen. In solitude, one realizes: perhaps we are not the sum of our choices, but rather the shadows of those decisions left lingering in parallel realms.