"Remember the summer rain?"
"She said it washed everything clean, leaving the streets shimmering like forgotten stars. I had forgotten. The voices of places linger like the scent of roses left by the dawn."
"In the garden of whispers,"
"he claimed every shadow was a guardian of secrets, watching the unraveling tapestry of time. I stand in that garden now, and the shadows flicker as if nodding in understanding."
"Was it worth it?"
they ask, a rhetorical echo bouncing off the walls of memory's fortress. Worth what? The journey that never began? The roads overtaken by wildflowers?
timeless traces forgotten voices