In the quiet of an aurora-lit evening, when the golden hues of dusk stretch across the horizon, there's a familiar ache. It's the memory of laughter that lingers like ghosts in an empty hall, wrapping around you with a bittersweet embrace.
Once, the world felt larger. Streets were unexplored paths, and every turn promised a new adventure. But as the glow dims, those paths become familiar, worn by time and the footsteps of forgetful wanderers. The echo of your own voice answers back in these hollow spaces, a reminder of who you were and who you might still become.
Through the window of this moment, you see the reflection of days past, shimmering just out of reach. They flicker like distant stars, holding stories untold, haunting serenades of what could have been, reverberating in the stillness of twilight.