In the corridors of silence, memories reverberate, softly brushing against the edges of consciousness. Each echo a fragment of a time once vibrant, now tucked away in the crevices of an empty room. What stories lie here, half-told, waiting for the whisper of a breeze to carry them again into the light?
Lost Conversations unravel under the weight of unspoken words, begging to be heard. With each silent ripple, the room yearns for presence, for the warmth of voices that once danced in the shadows.
Observed Moments linger, caught in the fragile web of time, like glass marbles teetering on the edge of a dream. What do they see, these fragments of the past, as they wait in the void?
It's in these echoes, the faint traces of what was, that we find ourselves, reflecting back in the mirrored silence, seeking.