One cannot step cautiously into the shadows without stirring the dust of forgotten thoughts.
"I remember when the river sang," she murmured, her voice barely a ripple in the encroaching dark.
It was here, among the echoes, that time's caress felt the most profound, lacing secrets between the syllables.
Beneath the wearied oak, the past awakens in fragments—a child's laughter, a fleeting embrace.
"Do you hear them? The forgotten voices..." he asked, as if contemplating his own reflection in the void’s mirror.
Each word unfurled like a petal, revealing truths nestled in the crevices of reality.
In the twilight, phantoms dance in the periphery, weaving tales of what once was.
An invitation hangs unspoken, illuminating paths paved with amber memories.
"Time is but a dream." A statement veiled in the gentle sighs of cosmic winds, transcending the tangible.