In the cavernous emptiness, one can almost hear the whispers of movements past. Each footstep echoes like a memory, reverberating through the hollow sanctuary of forgotten gatherings. The walls remember; they listen with a patience that speaks of eternal vigil.

The floor, once polished and lively, now holds the shadows of loomed twirls and solemn pirouettes. In every crack, in the whisper of dust motes suspended in the light, there lies a story untold, waiting for the occupants of the night to reclaim them.

Outside, the world carries on—cars hum by, voices carry, all oblivious to the quiet ballet that unfolds beneath arrow-shaped moonlight. There are two dancers here, unseen, perhaps even unknown to one another, yet their rhythm is intertwined, an unbroken chain.

Would you step into this space? Would you dare, on a night such as this, to dance alone among the echoes? Perhaps with the flicker of candlelight, one might find a partner, even if only in one's imagination.

Linchpins | Murmoor Reflections | Petals on Snow