Between two worlds, I found a fracture — delicate, fragile enough to house a whisper of eternity. It was not a tear but a crack, an invitation to moments unseen and stories unsaid. Do the invisible edges of our lives polish themselves in silence, or is their beauty found in the chaos of their fragmentation?
Growing up, the walls whispered secrets through their cracks, murmuring in tones of forgotten childhood laughter. I remember how the sunlight streamed through those fissures, illuminating dust like tiny constellations in a cosmic dance. Years fold in on themselves, yet the cracks remain — guardians of nostalgia.
When did we last embrace the cracks in our own journeys? The mistakes etched into our story like erosion on stone, forming grooves that cradle the essence of our humanity. To philosophize is to hold these cracks gently, not as scars, but as windows to the wilderness of potential.