Words drift like leaves on water, calling from the depths of a silent ocean. The whispers echo through corridors unseen, where shadows dance with forgotten light. A melody of truth, wrapped in mist, where every note is a story untold. Ripples in the ink reveal memories not lived, futures not taken. What lies beneath is an abyss of choices, a harmony of echoes. The scent of rain on thirsty soil, a promise renewed. Murmur, embrace the solitude in the symphony. Listen to the echoes in the halls of time, where footsteps remain long after the traveler has gone. The walls keep such stories hidden, behind smiles and gentle deceptions. Whisper of the echoes. Waves crash against the shores of reality, bending truths into shapes unrecognizable. A canvas of stars and shadows, a poetry of silence.