The Endless Pavements

The sound of footsteps, solitary and rhythmic, falling upon the endlessness. Each step a reminder that permanence is an illusion.

Concrete stretches beneath, a blanket of grey unyielding. Memories flicker, like shadows between the cracks, briefly illuminated.

A passerby smiles, momentary connection in the anonymity, then vanishes on the pavement's horizon.

Morning dew evaporates, leaving only the echoes of its fleeting touch. It is the pavement, ever-tolerant, ever-oblivious.

Philosophies written in chalk, washed away by time's rain, yet the scribbles linger persistently in oblivion's embrace.