As dawn crept over the forgotten alley, the unsung songs lingered. Echoes of melodies never birthed sank into the cobblestones, waiting for footsteps to awaken them. Each step a note, each breath a rest — harmonies lost beneath the hum of daily lives.
The voices of the sidewalk vendors, a rhythm of their own:
Apples, oranges, dreams...In the library, under the gaze of dusty tomes, songs hum of stories unsung:
Silence has its own tune...Morning sun dapples the gate, illuminating tales forgotten:
Time seldom sings...