The whisper came with the dusk, a tune laced with remnants of dreams never dreamt. It coiled around the air like a soft, forgotten sigh. In the pallid light, shadows murmured secrets only known to the night...
A phantom limb reaches out across the void, tracing shapes in the mist, where none can see, yet all can feel. The lost caress speaks of golden threads that wove through lives now scattered like forgotten autumn leaves.
To those who listen, the echoes form a map, a constellation of memories charting a course through lingering sorrow. The path is spectral, unraveled by the touch of time's hand.