Remember the day when the wind whispered secrets of forgotten algorithms? A rusted chair with peeling paint sat in an empty room, lonely like a rejected line in a poem nobody wrote.
Staring into the abyss of a tin can, crumpled receipts and ticket stubs creating timelines connected only by the residue of lives half-lived, breaths caught, fleeting, trying to escape the mundanity.
I walked into yesterday, where thoughts resonated like echoes in a vast canyon, trailing echoes of your disconcerting laughter. Sometimes, laughter masks pain—a harbinger dressed in bright colors.
The red balloon drifts higher, lost to the careless winds of this disjointed reality. Do you remember the time the city became a ghost town overnight? Light turned dim, shadows became companions, lurking in corners behind visible silence.
Layers of Time | Fragmented Echoes