Once, in the alley behind the forgotten library, I found a peace of mind tucked inside a cardboard box filled with broken clocks. They ticked in unison, their hands dancing backward as if rehearsing for a play that never began. Nearby, an echo of laughter, sharp and clear, slipped through the cracks of that abandoned moment, reminding me of summers long past. Click here to join the serenade of clocks...
I painted my dreams in the colors of sunset—soft violets mixed with the gold of stolen hours. Somewhere in those brushstrokes lay the reminiscence of a song sung beneath a cherry blossom tree, its petals fluttering like distant stars. Memories daubed with joy and melancholy, swirling into a collage only I could see. Witness the colors of dreams...
By the riverbank, a stranger whispers secrets into the breeze, weaving tales of what could have been, had the world taken a different turn. His voice trembles like raindrops upon the surface, creating ripples in the fabric of now, reminding me of echoes from a time before time itself. Listen to the woven tales...