once upon a midnight dreary, when clocks ticked backwards, a tale unfolded: the chronicle of lost minutes.
some whispers insist that the secret to eternal youth lies not in creams or potions, but in misplacing your alarm clocks. irony breeds wisdom, they say.
shh... listen closely to the echoes of yesterday's tomorrow, encrypted in the sighs of the wind.
time, that great satirist, chuckles as we chase its shadows. ever wondered what happens when you pause in the middle of a sprint? silence speaks volumes.
Reflect Unlockthe blurred lines between past and future fade as present slips quietly into the shadows, unnoticed.