Once there were moments, tracing the subtleties of faded laughter, slipping through corridors of time.
“Do you hear the silence that sings?” The echoes unravel tales of yesteryears, tugging at the frayed edges of memory.
In forgotten whispers, the familiar dances like leaves caught in the tumultuous breeze.
Images dissolve into thin air—“A flickering candle, a distant star, do they not yearn to return?”
With every breath, a reminder of forgotten dreams swells, rising from the depths—each contraction a pulse of longing.
Step lightly on the fog of now, for yesterday’s scent lingers on the fingertips of our reality.
“Lost and found again in the embrace of echoes.” The memories hum a tune, as creatures of the past glide gracefully.
When did familiarity slip into the wild embrace of the unknown?
Here lies the bed of soft questions where the answers drift endlessly, and we, the disembodied listeners.