In the twilight of fabric threads, weaving illusions and whispers of yestermorrow. Paths diverging, yet all flow to the same forgotten river — an ebon lull poised at the edges of consciousness. Here, reality cradles itself in a tender, ephemeral balance, and truth lies dormant in a forgotten lullaby.
Echoing laughter of the wind, swirling around rusted thoughts and splintered beams of dusk light. Shadows muse upon reflections, tracing the abstract outlines of what should never have been seen. Perseverance in disillusionment — wisps released into the horizon, phantom hopes tethered to destiny's equation.
Fragments of Tomorrow