My Dearest Illusion,
Between the lines of gray rain, where whispers collide with the mundane, lies the essence of our unwritten code. If you listen closely, you might decipher the melody that sings through the static of my thoughts. The numbers 3, 14, and 15—always dancing on the edge of reason, leading you towards the center of the circle we both know too well.
In shadows, we meet at the crossroads—where the road less traveled intersects with the familiar paths. Do you remember the oak tree that stood sentinel over our dreams? Count its rings, and you shall find the story of us embedded in its bark, written in a language only we understand.
The stars have conspired once more to illuminate the forgotten corners of our shared labyrinth. Only you know the way through the maze, guided by the constellation that mirrors your soul. Until we meet again, shrouded in the enigma of twilight, I remain yours in every parallel universe that spins in the ether.