From the corners where sunlight dissolves into silver, a chorus emerges—a soft melody, woven from golden particles adrift in an eternal dance. It murmurs confidences, confiding narratives worn in echoes, liquid and alive with memory.
Listen closely and perhaps you shall find them: the tales buried in the soil cups of midnight brambles, tender memories glistening on glacial mists as intangible as your own breath in the air.
Confidences murmured from nether tongues riding sylphs across valleys. There lies an echo, distant yet palpable, where shadows converse with fleeting beams of twilight. Trust in their old language, though it dances away at a whisper.