Memory, that elusive specter, often hides behind the veil of time. As we gaze into the mirrors of our past, we perceive not only our present selves but also the fleeting shadows of yesteryears. These echoes, once vibrant and full, now linger silently, casting haunting refrains in the corridors of our minds. Each reflection in the glass becomes a portal to what was—a trace of laughter, a glimmer of sorrow, the whispers of forgotten conversations.
Mirrors do not lie, yet they do not speak plainly. They offer images half spoken, half known, leaving us to ponder the truths obscured by their reflective surfaces. Sometimes, in the quiet of the soul's labyrinth, we hear these lost echoes crying out for recognition. They ask us to remember the roads not taken, the voices once familiar that have faded into the background of life’s relentless march onward.