In hushed corners where time has paused, the temporal vessels sit, cradled by whispers of an era lost—ticking softly into the abyss of forgotten reverie.
What is time if not a sepulcher for dreams unactualized? Each second drips through the fingers like sand, cascading into the reservoirs of memory, yet leaving only shadows on the walls of existence.
The clock's chime echoes into silence, summoning forth apparitions of rooms unvisited, where dust dances with light in vacated thoughts.
Are these the forgotten remnants of lives unlived, tucked away beneath the wardrobe of aspirations? Or is it merely a reflection of our relentless pursuit, silently screaming for attention?
The tick-tock reverberations ply the nightmares—we wear watches emblazoned with the syncope of ages, yet we remain beguiled by the permanence of nothingness.
Explore the Shadows that Linger Follow the Echoes of Time