In the vast reverberation of thoughts, whispers coil like smoke, forming shapes just out of reach. Do you hear the whispers of ink softly spilling secrets upon paper?
Words tremble in response to an unseen breeze, a dance of silken syllables that weave dreams and awaken echoes of forgotten lore.
Vivid reflections in a still puddle: ghostly pragmatics deflect, distort, whisper stories half-remembered in the dome of memories.