In the harrowed silence, whispers curl, twisting the fabric of memory—a flicker of laughter, the soft crunch of autumn leaves underfoot.
Restlessness lingers, both friend and foe, as starlight dips its toes into the pool of now.
Through the thousand doors of usage, reality stretches like a cat on a languid afternoon.
Each reset—a coiled spring in the marrow of trees, each breath a timeless echo, skimming gently over fabric woven from sunlight and shadow.
A limbo unspooled here, where echoes remember paths unfollowed—
What fruits await at tangent angles of yesterday?
The sun, yawning—a orange blush preparing for the conspiracy of dusk. In each flicker, possibilities abound—soil breaks free from branches, your shadow silently questions.