There is a rhythm to the everyday. Footsteps resonate down narrow sidewalks, whispering in praise of the dawn ushering forth gentle echoes of forgotten conversations, lingering questions lost to time.
At the crossroad of newly-cleaned alley despair and Sunday morning pancakes with remnants of syrupy musical notes, the world pivots unpredictably yet gracefully. In a harmony dyed in simple colors, yet embroidered with strokes of displacement and soothing clamor.
Can you feel it pulsing? The heartbeat of your home and the silence by which it is wrapped reaches, plays on the threshold of recognition, syncing and desyncing, a bracket unyielded and yet an open invite to roaring quiet and muted jubilation. Taste it, the breath of surprises familiar yet strange with an aftertaste of ruminaid excitement.
Would you venture further into the hallway of whispers or tread softly over the echoes of shimmering realities?