Ever listen to the colors sigh? It's like they're whispering secrets in shades only visible to the soul. There's a whole chant of existence behind the mundane, a symphony conducted by time itself. I mean, it was just yesterday when I caught a glimpse of that hidden orchestra tuning its invisible strings on a rainy day.
You step outside, boots splashing through puddles, and suddenly, there's a concerto of urban sounds— cars like wandering violins, pigeons chirping like a staccato of flutes, the wind swirling notes as it dances through your laughter. You know the kind of music only the brave dare to compose, the kind that makes you check over your shoulder just in case something profound happens behind your back.