Each echo whispers of what remains unsaid—
A moment cloaked in obscurity breathes heavy, sway of the clock teetering on the precipice of lost hours.
Dust collects like memories, specters of a malevolent past, shrouded in the faints of twilight.
How many dreams have you erased today? The unraveling strands swirl like autumn leaves on an indifferent breeze.
In the cacophony of voices, who will recount the fragments of your alchemical whisper that shaped their morrow?