What bumbles through our days, reflectively forgotten, but endlessly tapestried in one's mind?
Our stories, unraveling and rebounding, whirling in frenetic whispers and unnoticed light, cast shadows that words cannot confine.
Each step forward is a hesitant legato, striding through veil, mist, and rhythm of unrecorded choque.
"The rain on concrete, a symphony nobody has dared to orchestrate yet."