The silver screen shivers, a monochrome dance.
Within the frame, a solitary figure, gazing into the abyss, perhaps, or a mirror.
Words unspoken, yet the heart narrates a tale of looping patterns.
Scenes repeat, a carousel of shadows.
The clock ticks in spirals, every tick a note in a symphony of silence.
Voices, echoes of a bygone era, whisper.
The viewer, entranced, journeys through infinite corridors.
Reflections speak, but the language is forgotten, just like the stars that fell in the day.
Pantomime of colors, they ebb and flow like tides in a cosmic sea.