Echoes of forgotten summers, tinged with salt, wardrobe untouched. Do you remember the drifting horizon?
Lost in depth, oblivious to time... The metallic murmur slicing through the marrow. A card trick, a smile, a shattered kaleidoscope.
Breathe, my dear, breathe. The taste of ink and seaweed, November's chill beneath our fingers. Perfumed echoes, are your eyes closed yet?
In the velvet silence, whispering longings and unified discontent. The sea remembers. Then fathom this.
Do we hold all answers in the gaps between lines? Or maybe in the unwritten? Fragment stories, tales scattered on brine.