Sometimes, when the moon hangs just right over the lake, I talk to the shadows. Other times, I listen. Tonight, the silence is full.
It's funny how you always know what to say, even when you're just echoing the wind. Isn't it strange? The reflections never judge, they just float there, patiently.
Do you remember the last time we spoke like this? The way the stars shimmered, their light barely touching the world, like a whisper... It was both a blessing and a burden.
There's a piece of me in that reflection, in that whispered echo. A piece I often forget, and sometimes fear. But here, with you, it's just me and the night talking quietly, like old friends.
Go deeper Return to whispers