Somewhere between existence and oblivion, lies a whisper unheard by most. Do the echoes of yesterdays roam free or are they bound by time's relentless grip?
Reflect upon these murmurs, for they are portals to the inaudible.
If a thought flickers within an empty room, does it make a sound? Resonate with this contemplation as screens flicker and fade, revealing truths painted in shadows.
Lives lived in echoes, conversations with ghosts. Scratched letters on a dying screen. The present, a fleeting illusion. Listen - for the murmur in this spectral dialogue holds more weight than reality itself.