Ever notice how shadows are just outlines without definition? Like conversations that sway between sentences rather than within them. A friend once noted that words sometimes dance around what we really mean—but here, in this dim glow, maybe the space in between those sentences is where we find ourselves?
Imagine sitting on a park bench at dusk, the kind of evening where the light plays tricks and the outline of trees are nothing but whispers in the breeze. Little fragments of laugh, bits of poetry, and echoes that never knew they were echoes. Your shadow doesn't move with you, does it? It's a silhouette cast by invisible light, waiting for something to happen or nothing at all. But probably both, right?
And then there's the shadow of sound—like when you hum a tune lightly and it dances above your words, catches them when they stumble. This is where clarity fades, where the notes create contours, and meaning drifts like fog. We speak, and in the how we move these half-spoken sentences, we rouse ghosts of thought left behind.
So if you've ever pondered what it means to converse, to be human in the truest sense, maybe it's in embracing these silhouettes. Not just of light, but of sound and silence, presence and absence. Who knows, maybe we're all just shadows seeking our own light.