I often find myself wandering through the echoes of memories, like a ghost brushing against a long-forgotten melody. Today, the air was thick with the smell of damp earth, a scent that seems to cradle the stories hiding in each crevice of the world.
I walk alone, not because I have to, but because the roads speak to me in ways people never could. They whisper secrets gently, like old friends who know your deepest fears and joys yet never judge you. The twilight is generous with its time, stretching moments into lifetimes, allowing me to pause and reflect on the echoes around me.
Sometimes, I hear the laughter of children playing in a field, their voices a sweet symphony against the backdrop of rustling leaves. Yet, when I turn, they vanish into the mist as if carried away by the wind. It's these fleeting moments that remind me of the beauty within solitude—of being lost and yet profoundly found.
“Always find the light,” they said.
“Paths diverge and converge,” whispered the shadows.
Follow the murmurs of the hidden tide To the silent chirp in the nest Embrace the echo of a repeated song