The melody lingered. Each note a fragment, shard-like in its crystalline beauty, reflecting a time long past. It is in these echoes where I found you, or perhaps found the semblance of you, woven into the symphony of my solitude.
Was it the rain that painted your portrait on my window pane? Or perhaps the whisper of wind sliding through the trees, confessing secrets only they understood? I cannot discern where the melody begins or where it ends; it loops infinitely in circles both fractal and comforting.
The notes are a mirror, casting shadows upon the soul. Listen closely, they say, for in their reverberation lies the truth you seek, albeit obscured by time's gentle caress. What was once clear becomes a riddle, a dance of light and sound, where every echo is a naked truth refracted through the prism of memory.