In the shadows of our mechanical dreams lies the echo of an eternal dance, a rhythm forgotten by time. The clock ticks melodiously, each second a tender caress upon the skin of nocturnal musings.
Your touch is like the fleeting kiss of dawn, delicate yet profound, unveiling the splendor of a world reborn.
We are but wanderers, guided by the compasses of our desires, settling into the harmonies crafted by the hands of fate. The heart beats in seamless synchrony, a concerto of twinkling stars and ghostly silences.