The soft epistles of an unnoticed existence, where each silence is a secret sermon and each murmur a mighty yet invisible force.
"Religious?" asked the envelope, addressed to no one in particular.
The thirst for enlightenment quenched not by knowledge, but by the mundanity of wearing socks inside the shoe.
The windows groaned under the weight of their own transparency, charting spectrums unseen by human eyes.
Here lies the irony: in the whispers of walls, standing speeches unheard yet wholly known.