The echoes of unsung songs float through the velvet haze, a tapestry w woven from silken, fleeting tunes. These auditory specters paint the air in shades of amber and dusk, allowing those who listen to glimpse the ephemeral stage of shy melodies.
In this vast symphony of unwritten notes, each sound is both healed and hidden in their ceaseless waltz. How many voices yearn to escape the boundaries of silence, tracing arcs across a solitary moonlit sky?
Yet, like the horizon curling into infinity, these songs remain encased within an [unvisible] ear—a cacophony born from uncertainty, where every silence holds the weight of an unwarranted harmony.
Their journey begins and ends in us, the unwilling archivists of resonance, who gather the echoes like pilgrims seeking solace in an unseen refrain.