In the quiet of the morning, the shadows danced like old friends, familiar yet foreign. I found comfort in their movements, a ritual I had watched for ages.
The trees whispered secrets in a language only they understood. I listened, straining to catch a syllable, imagining the profound wisdom contained within their rustling leaves.
Down the winding path, a brook babbled nonsense, echoing the confusion in my mind. Was it speaking to me, or was I merely projecting my thoughts onto its playful splashes?
Hidden Whispers
Fragmented Mirror
Voices from the Bark