As we traverse the corridors of time, what remains are not the bright spectacles of momentary joy, but the whispered shadows of what once was. These memories, half-formed, linger longer than the tangible experiences etched in the light of conscious perception.
The silent echoes that brush past our awareness often carry the weight of forgotten truths. Such is the paradox of existence: to be surrounded by the vividness of life, and yet to find solace in the quietude of unvoiced memories.
Time, that relentless tide, washes over every shore with equal measure. But within its flow lies the potential for remembering and forgetting, a duality that shapes the landscape of thought.
What is it that we remember, and why? To seek answers in these echoes is to acknowledge the void left by certainty, a space where ambiguity breathes freely.