In the undercurrents of memory, whispers persist. A language of longing and untold stories, buried deep beneath the cortex.

The sunlight fades earlier now—an echo of other seasons, and I sense the heartbeat of transient dreams fading.

Fossilized thoughts, scattered amidst the gray sands, waiting to be unearthed. Each fragment a remnant of someone’s once-wild aspirations. Pictures that once brimmed with colors now exist only as shadows.

Unspoken riddles trapped in the mind's labyrinth serve as witness to a reality half-lived, as time weaves its indifferent tapestry.

Skimming through these remnants, you find the imprints, ghostly truths inscribed on the stones of yesteryears—a soft sigh escapes as you recognize your essence woven within these ancient bones.