The audacity ignites in an obscure corner of oblivion. Reflections glimmer like chandeliers soaked in melancholy. The dance between shadows[^the-wayward] and soft murmurs reveals truths we dare not embrace.
Rain, unyielding and sweet, loses all texture. Characters without context become mere actors on a finite stage. Autumn leaves flutter through foggy streets where silence screams and echoes the awfulness of forgotten promises.