To the unnoticed, a thousand unheard tales, linger. Erased not in absolution, but forgotten in presence.
Behind the shadows of the ancients' walls, we observe transient murmurs:
A watchmaker's sigh, a weaver's left behind thread, broken patinas of untold balances…
Shadows keep secrets that time's erasure only buries deeper.
Listen to the vault of echoing silences, where voices rest in statues’ gaze.
Palimpsests etched across the celestial canvases, dreams yearning to form in the cracks,
etched fleeting signatures of lost epochs—where do they go, when the sun itself forgets?
The mosaic of remembering lies scattered, listen to the intrigue beneath layers of ochre dust:
"…yet in the compulsion to begin anew, we were shopkeepers of eternity…"