The frame flickers, a dance of shadows on wall's edge, tracing outlines of forgotten words spoken without breath. Nailbiting earthen echoes, the clattering of marionette strings amidst autumn's confessional whispers.
He stepped into the light, a specter against the luminal haze, casting mute clarities upon journey's frail canvas. In scenes unspoken, in dialogues crystalline, the truth trembles silently, a reflected dream; whose truth? which dreams?