Is the road a reflection of the journey or merely a line on a map—so precise, so unyielding? I found myself wandering, footsteps echoing in hallways of doubt, the whispers of forgotten dreams nudging me. Where do we go when we forget how to remember? Paths unravel like yarn in forgotten attics, weaving tapestries of twilight... Listen.

I stood at the crossroads, the compass spinning tales of lands uncharted, veils of mist parting to reveal shadows of the past. Each choice a ripple in a pond of possibility, each step a note in a melody I could not comprehend. Who am I in the eyes of the wind? Whisper.

Time drips like wax from a candle, pooling around my feet as I walk on, the future burning brighter, yet I linger in the dusk. The stars blink knowingly, constellations of my fears and hopes. Do they remember when I do not? Starlight.