"The sky is whispering secrets, but who's meant to listen?"

"Trust the lamp post, it knows the way home."

"What color is a thought, I wonder?"

In the dream of a clock with no hands, the walls talk in tongues. "Shall we dance in the corridor of forgotten songs?" ask the shadows.

Echoes of laughter ripple through the memories like waves on a starlit sea. "Pause for a moment," it hums, "and let the silence speak."

Murmurs of the walkway, Echoes of the past.