In the whispering currents of thought, where silence itself hums a forgotten memory.
"Do you remember the future?" she asked, a smile playing the edges of her lips.
A look, an echo that dances on the precipice of now and then. Each moment a note, cascading in the symphony of existence. Are we learners, or shadows of our own dreams?
"We are adrift in a sea of moments," he replied, tracing paths in the sand that the tide would soon erase.
As the waves of understanding lap at our consciousness, we find ourselves walking shores that stretch infinitely, enshrined with the footprints of the past.
The tapestry of life weaves itself from threads woven in the loom of shared experiences. Eyes that have seen the world turn a thousand times.
An open door in a familiar hallway—where does it lead? There are no keys, only rediscovered passages.
We are all echoes, resonating in the harmonic folds of yesterday and tomorrow, as present as the breath that carries our words into the ether.