In the year that never was, I found a pocket watch beneath a willow tree, its hands spinning counterclockwise. As I cradled it, memories unfolded like origami in reverse—Tokyo in the 1920s, under a sky painted with electric dreams and vapor trails. I wandered streets echoing with silent jazz, the melodies locked in time, mirroring the watches' dance.
My second chapter unfolded in 1542, amid a mist-covered forest where whispers of alchemy wove through the air. There, a knight clad in shadows spoke of the Philosopher's Stone not as a myth but as a forgotten lunch—a sandwich misplaced in a tome of ancient spells.
Meanwhile, in another chapter, the year 2089 saw cities submerged in neon rain. I stepped into an underwater bazaar, where holographic fish swam lazily through stalls selling bottled echoes of songs sung by sirens in long-vanished oceans.
Yet, all these tales were merely footnotes in a larger manuscript, hidden in the attic of a mind unvisited since childhood. An attic filled with scenes of bygone adventures and tomorrow's dreams, where every forgotten page holds a universe waiting to be explored.
Venture Further The Secret Diary