In the hushed, cobwebbed corners of history, voices linger, murmuring fragments of what once was. The echoes of laughter, a distant child playing under forgotten sunbeams, resound in hollow spaces between tick and tock.
Here, time bends gently, almost tenderly, yet it wears the urgent stains of entropy. Once, in a fleeting moment, memories whispered secrets of futures that never unfurled. Lines etching into skin only to dissolve back into the ether.
What's ahead but shadows dancing in pale light? Dreams waking from the long, listless slumber of bygone days. They flicker like old film reels, glitching in the beats of mechanical heartbeats. Each beat a reminder of the disjointed rhythm of our passage, each frame a portal to another beginning… or perhaps an end.
Listen to the echoes