“We built our dreams on soft clouds, not knowing they would drift away, tea spills and laughter echoing like ripples in a pond. Did you hear footsteps behind you?”
In the quiet evenings painted with golden hues, a child leaned out to seek whispers in the fading sun, never realizing the tales lurking back in time, a tapestry of faded threads woven brutally together.
"Grandmother's hands spoke more volumes than any tome. Imagine living the tales; imagine stepping into shoes too large, with soles that have not touched the earth for decades, only shadows did!"
Scattered stories tangled like echoes; each step forward peeled back layers of the familiar, unraveled beginnings where endings trod. There is fog, of course, procession of silk like stones rising under the weight of rendered reality.
Lost Dreams of Yesterday Chapters Untold Voices of the Night