In the dim corridors of thought, where gears and cogs intertwine, the echoes of yesterday hum a forgotten melody. Each tick of the clock reverberates through the silken web of memory, weaving patterns only visible to the eye of introspection.
What tunes do you recall from the symphony of time? The fleeting notes of laughter, woven with the dense harmony of sighs, play a sonata for the ages. You are both conductor and audience, bound by the whims of a clockwork mind.
Once, you knew the rhythm perfectly. Now, it eludes you, dancing just beyond the reach of conscious grasp. As the pendulum swings, consider this: are these frequencies lost, or merely waiting to be rediscovered?