Whispers of Forgotten Echoes

Notes from the Phantom Limb

The liminal space between presence and absence, a symphony awaits each touch, born from the unfilled shadows. The vibrations are echoes aging like whispered memories caught in time. They rise through untouched air, swirling in arcs drawn by unseen fingers caressing forgotten skin.

Invisible, the phantom's dance weaves through ivory threads, eternally threading needles in the corners of stitched realities. It's a soft look back over one's shoulder, to the touch of absent warmth, or an embrace gently left lingering in the autumn breeze.

The Murmur of Shadows Thoughts in Twilight’s Gleam