As the reel turns, a lone cactus sways, scripting secrets in the caressing desert breeze.
Two silhouettes traverse an endless expanse, footsteps echoing memories caught in film grain.
A palimpsest shadow plays across an empty bench—once cradling stories whispered by long-gone friends.
The clock tolls thrice, dim echoes of laughter veiling forgotten hopes clinging to pulled strings.
The horizon bleeds into night, where whispers of the untold mingle with the starlit symphony.
— In the stillness, the specter of a question lingers: Where do shadows dream? An eternal inquiry.