What if time loops, folds like fabric, like memories worn threadbare? Choices ripple, rippling water's smile, once bright, now a frown, diverging paths, a leafy labyrinth of forgotten maps.
The cypress sways, whispering secrets of the past, where shadows stretch long and twilight spills over like spilled ink; lost in a broken record, skipping notes of a symphony that once played sweetly, now a cacophony calls.
And now we dance, caught in a spiral, round and round in a dizzy haze, conjuring specters, asphalt dreams, flickering streetlights illuminating whispers, the streets sway like dancing fireflies. They tell tales of who we were, echoing what is gone.
You can journey through the web of intertwining tales, venture into the depths of luminous quaysides, or just remember that grains fall, memories fade.