Gentle echoes, like quiet caresses beneath layers of sediment, await excavation in the cavernous hollows of memory.
She found the murmurs of once cherished promises embedded in the granite table's surface, where sunlight had danced like memories fading into the ether.
Amongst the dust, a single note scrawled in an ancient tongue spilled onto the surface, declaring, "Here lie the truths we whispered when twilight held dominion over the stars."
The quiet echoes of voices I could not place, speaking of corridors illuminated only by moonlight, their etched silhouettes dancing across the gloom.
How fragile, the weave of our existence, drawing us into the depths of consciousness where shadows converse with whispers.