The door into the past lays unscratched, dusty with whispers of possibilities. Memories glance off the reflective surface, waiting for someone brave enough to peer within.
The air is thick with stories untold, laden with echoes of laughter that once ricocheted through untouched moments. There's a nook in the timeline I frequently visited,
where sunsets lingered longer, casting hues of pink and gold into my reverie.
Huddled by a fire with future friends, we shared stories under constellations only half remember.
Would they have believed my journey began amidst the ordinary clatter of heels on a nameless street, the clicking of clocks synchronizing our folly?
Again, the echoes call from another season unnoticed:
“Is it fiction, or a peculiar realism?” echoed the ethereal voice of my future self, weaving tales of adventures never knotted in the mundane span of life as yet lived. A reflective loop perhaps, or a mirrored hallway of choices made and those still waiting.
Step into the echoes Unlock a memory