In the quiet hum of forgotten radios, we spoke of dreams that slipped through the grains of time.

Do you remember the echoes of laughter that danced under the streetlights of our memory?

Beneath the retrograde stars, I found your letters, unwritten, unworn by the touch of time.

Once, we planned to trace the constellations of our youth, hand-in-hand, as if to map eternity.

The shadows of the past linger like ghostly reminders of words spoken in silence, between heartbeats.

Somewhere, beneath layers of nostalgia, resides the echo of your voice in a distant, fading summer.