It was a night in December, or perhaps it was July, that my mind first danced through the corridors of Twilight Avenue. The past and the future intertwining like threads of an unspooled tapestry. I remember sitting on a bench carved from the echoes of laughter long erased by time, pondering the delicate balance of existence in a world brushed against the realms of fantasy.
An encounter with a future self brought the scent of nostalgia tinged with the possibility of untold stories. We exchanged glances, silent rivers merging into the sea of consciousness that flowed eternally. My future walked toward a horizon that shimmered like liquid glass, where the stars hummed melodies of ages yet to be born.
And there it was—a melody from the forgotten symphonies of yesterday—an unfinished sentence echoing through the hallways of my mind. The past whispered secrets only the dreamer could understand. Memories like grains of sand slipped through fingers, only to reshape into castles of light and shadow built against the tide of time.
Echoes of Past Lives