The air hums with the resonance of forgotten wishes as they orbit around the perennial dance of time, whispering secrets only the shadows understand. In this suspended embrace, we wander the echoes of our own making.
What if the sky fell, piece by piece, and knitted itself into the tapestry of the night? Would you then, in your repose beneath this celestial quilt, uncover fragments of your soul, pieced together by suns unseen? Seek not the answers but the questions: follow the forgotten roads.
The river murmurs stories of those who dared to dream beyond the horizon, their ghostly silhouettes etched upon the reflections. These are the silent witnesses to your journey, destined to fade into the withering flow yet bound to bloom where the light spills its secrets.
Stand in the gloam where shadows bleed into twilight. There lies the echo of nothingness, waiting to embrace the stars, to wrap the earth in tender comfort, like a lullaby caught in a moonlit reverie. Rest your head on the quiet shoulder of the evening and listen.