Echoes of Faded Light
In one of the forgotten train stations, I sat beside a flickering lamp that illuminated the pages of an unwritten novel. When the shadows lengthened, they whispered fragments of stories yet to unfold, tales that had been spoken into existence by travelers from eras obscured by mist. Beneath the lamp's feeble glow, I began to pen an ode to silence.
Reflections on a Tidal Moon
As the tide kissed the distant shores of yesteryears, echoes of conversations lingered beneath the waves. I heard a once-common voice signal a welcome drought on an autumnal noon. The memory played in reverse, allowing me to witness the day untangle itself like an artist impatiently unveiling a masterpiece.
I found the remnants of an antique clock in a garden that thrived on neglect. Its hands still spun, albeit in loops rather than ticks. I cradled it gently, haunted by the notion that time might yet remember how to follow linear paths. A whisper from its gears spoke of a future where yesterday’s hour could be held like a cherished secret.
The Chrono Paradox
A man walked backwards through the carnival lights, his laughter a score played in counterpoint to his shadow's dance. Doomed to forget the steps he had mastered in his journey lashed to eternity, I envied the fluid grace of his paradoxical existence.
Other Paths