As night crests the horizon, the world seems to breathe a sigh; calmness descends like a velvety shroud. The streets, abandoned by the liveliness of the day, echo only with the hushed whispers of the wind.
"Do you hear it too?" the echo asks, its voice a tender caress against the din of twilight. No question lingers longer than it should.
Above, stars dance in euphoria, cast in a glow of vulnerability. They are not far; they flicker close enough to touch, if only one could reach. The sky unfolds a tapestry woven of time forgotten.
Another voice breaks the silence: "Inhale the dusk," it murmurs, grounding, tangible. As if light were matter, it weaves through fingertips and settles on thoughts, illuminating forgotten realms.
Echoes of Dawn