In the morning light of a forgotten Tuesday, the jigsaw puzzle of moments slips between fingers. Memories are whispers in corridors of dreams.
Standing under rusted iron arches, remembering a carnival that never came, or was it the smell of popcorn amidst the fading autumn trees?
Xeroxed pages with ink smudges, office romances untold unraveling at sunset's edge. She loved the orange hues but recalled them only in grey.
Fragmented Soliloquy
Sagas of Nowhere
Glimpses Into the Void
Somewhere, between the cobblestones and whispers of the city, a child's laughter echoed. It belonged to a past that wore an alien smile.
When did time itself become disjointed? Running like rivers against the grain, carrying tales of forgotten epics.
In the world that we mimic, spiders weave silken alphabets upon windowsills; the dawn reads them softly.