You ever wander into a moment, enchanted by a whisper that wasn't meant for you? Shadows play tricks in the corners of your eye, and you're left gripping nothing but air and memories that shimmer, almost real. Silhouettes, they dance, cast by an illumination you can't quite place—like the kind you'd find in an old bookstore, the sun sneaking in through dusty windows.
"Like the wind through forgotten chimes, it finds a way to sing, doesn't it?"
I was in this dream once, not the awake-in-bed kind but the one's-more-real-than-life sort. Streets dipped into hollows where the light became liquid, pooling around your feet and washing away the ticking of clocks. And somewhere in that endless twilight, laughter—a sound like rain on leaves—spoke of things we all forget to remember.
What's crazy is how stories echo in these hollows. It's like a loop, a surreal soundtrack that plays on repeat. You want to join the chorus, but your voice gets lost in the mix, and you're just part of the scenery, another silhouette.
"Step cautiously; the light tells no lies, but the darkness is a friend."
Ever curious about what beckons just out of sight? Follow the whispers: the hidden path awaits.
Or maybe, just maybe, its echoes will guide you to a place where time stands still: the uncaged time.