In the gentle hum of our daily gears lies the whisper of stars, echoing the silent dance of cosmic mechanics. Each tick of the clock—a rhythm to the song of existence—nudges the universe to ponder its own reflections.
The pages of time, like sheets in an artist's tome, bear the ink stains of fleeting moments and eternal epiphanies. What truths lie in the sketches made by forgotten hands?
As the old machine grinds, do we too operate under unseen forces? Are our dreams mere mechanical distractions, sketches of desire clawed into the fabric of our waking reality?
Fractured Dreams Silence Beneath Waves Ephemeral Echoes