In the dim-lit shadows, a figure shuffles; whispers caught in snatches like a forgotten melody upon the tongue; In the eye, a reflection - could it be destiny or merely the echo of yesterday's dreams?
The clock ticks sideways, bendable time spacing out like tired marionettes casting reflections in puddles; 'Is it now or was it then?' she queries, yet answers slip, like sand through palms, ungraspable dimensions unraveling somewhere beyond the velvet curtains.
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flickering sensation in fingertips touching electric steel; remotely familiar or strangers' hands grasping at the tapestry, pulling threads till gaping abysses expose their false promises.
Shadows dance across the screen like forgotten echoes on a vinyl's last groove; Silent, the projector hums a spectral lullaby, the whispered tales of yore forgotten yet preserved in some chronicle of the absurd.