I remember standing by the fence, the breeze carrying tales from the unseen lands...
Echoes from the summer of '92, when dreams were made of rainbows and shadows.
The attic smelled of dust and secrets; burnt edges of unspoken histories lingered in the air...
Notes scribbled in old notebooks, fading but eternal.
Listen closely, you'll hear the zipping of memories in the craters of reality...
like the sound of sparking voltage in muted twilight.
Forgotten circuits, reminiscing through a touch of sonic grace.