It begins with the color, a strange chartreuse dressed in hazy light. Each corner turned is a memory laden.
Where did the familiarity come from? The market, yes, where fresh oranges shimmered, seedlings whispering promises of tomorrow.
A voice—was it the same old lady commenting on the day's offers or a ghost of an echo, your own thoughts turned tactile before fading?
< p>The lamp above the table once knowing of mackerel evenings; did it flicker or just close its eyes in remembrance?The sensation wraps you—a river of déjà vu pulling endlessly at your soles, collapse and rebuild all at once.
Consider: a diversion into time’s fragments?
Engage; weave thoughts through the strands of memory and find: what lies beyond recognition?
If only the moments would illuminate when darkness pauses at the brim... Delve deeper into ambivalence?