In the flickering twilight, where silhouettes weave tales of the unutterably vanished, the whispers throng with memories. What was motion amongst the hedges now lies frozen, a symphony of shadow and pause.
Beyond the crumbled gate is the forgotten path, crisscrossing time's own dagger through autumnal whispers. Dig deep, beneath the heart, among consumptive oppression and lightless corners, where you may unearth them. Little footprints. Sized for dreams.
Travel deeper into dusk