Drifting, like a whisper on the edge of dawn, where shadows elongate with every fractal echo.
A kaleidoscope of dreams unfurls, revealing paths not taken, choices not chosen, in an endless loop of what could have been.
The mind wanders through corridors of fading memory, brushing against the elusive glimmers of forgotten moments.
Here, in this transit space, the silence speaks in riddles, a language echoing through the chamber of an introspective self.
Am I the traveler, or merely a reflection in someone else's journey?