"Once, the sound of rustling leaves whispered secrets beneath the ancient swing," she recalled, eyes closed, haunted by echoes of laughter unknown.
Underneath the fraying sky, an elegy of voices sang for the forgotten carnival, faded colors swirling in the twilight mist.
Ticking backward, the hands of time cradled a dubious comfort, each chime unraveling a thread of impossibility.
"I remember the maze of mazes, where paths led to nowhere and everywhere," muttered the traveler, eyes fixed on horizons unseen.