What if reflections couldn't remember,
the shimmer of missed lights, sliding beneath whispers of time? Lights fractured like glass fragments, of love and longing — stretching, opening up.
Circles of tomorrow hang like lingering dreams; they whisper secrets. Lost melodies drift through our conversations, mingling with the air in hollow chambers.
Do you hear? The echo layers — rolling like fog across a field dressed in silence. Each word spoken floods the space, a tsunami of fantasy and forgotten gratitude.
If dreams had pockets, would they carry our sorrow? Or would they hold our laughter? The walls could talk, I've heard them tell — would they call our name or sing our failures?
Yet here we stand, awaiting answers like leaves await rain. Shall we dive deeper into the void, where each thought stirs, uneasily poised? If only, we could ask the hallway mirrors.