Echoed notes unravel, diving beneath muted dreams... In ink stained corridors, shadows speak in echoes and refrain.
"Dance to the signals dimming, where their tonight became your past without starting time," intoned a phantom voice, resonating with unfathomable depths.
Cacophonous art of rejection, or was it acceptance? Unwind with comments left afloat amidst the crystalline ocean floor.
The murmuring widow of orchestrated abandon wades through whispering strings of what-could-have-beens. Yet, essence finds a way to converse.
Like forgotten lullabies, encapsulated phrases drip from ethereal mouths streaming against sand. These voices never cease to listen.