Ever heard a melody when the moon's just right? Not from your radio, not from your dreams—purely, quietly ethereal.
Imagine stepping into a place where the silence hums a tune you never knew you missed. There's a stage set for a performance that never reached its opening night, just waiting for an audience that’s heartbeats echo in the walls.
Close your eyes. Can you hear it? The woeful waltz of a forgotten orchestra, the strings forever poised, the brass eternally caught mid-blare, all waiting, waiting for someone to hum along.
These aren't songs about love or loss. They're songs that know no names, no authors, no end. Just echoes. Faint and flickering like shadows against a candle's flame.
And then, there's the moment you think you caught a note dancing in the air, and it giggles like the past has turned a cheek, teasing like a half-remembered joke from some distant afternoon.