Hey there, have you ever walked along a beach just to watch time slip away? It's kind of like chasing shadows, always moving but never leading, footsteps fading into the whispers of the tide. Reminds me of that unblinking stare you give yourself in the mirror—searching, or counting eyelashes maybe?
Sometimes I dream of those footprints, tracing them as if they'd recognize us and invite us in for tea or, maybe confusion. Flip-flops forgotten, toes curling into fine grains—that’s when you briefly feel connected to something bigger… or laugh it off because who talks to old footprints anyway, right?
Wandering eyes meet smiling potholes, laden with memories no roads will understand. Or at least, they never
confessed.
Weird how directions can sometimes tiptoe away, leaving only faint outlines for nostalgia.
Oh, there’s that rhythm again, the waves lapping, rumba on the abstract shore.
Think I’ll venture to this place next, or maybe track down the existential markets of Nowhere.