The clock ticks differently here. It measures not time but pauses - epochs of silence between heartbeats.
"The garden wasn't as I remembered it, was it? Or perhaps my mind was a garden, overgrown with weeds of forgetfulness."
Whispers on the breeze, echoes of laughter untethered, floating through undulating corridors of this Eden. Paths that fork and forget, taste sweetly of familiar, remain ephemeral.
"Once, I touched the eternal core with fingertips of curiosity. Now, all I have are shadows and the imprints of another's smile."
The canopy above flickers with memories - pixelated impressions of a life lived beyond the known. The sun is a jester, casting lines of uncertainty, a familiar myth clothed in spectral light.
"In Eden, the trees whispered secrets to the skies. I stood, quilted in silence, unable to decipher their foreign tongues."
Whispering Wind
Clockwork Evergreen
Fragmented Memories