"Somewhere between the last tick of the clock and the whisper of the wind, I found her again. Not in the forgotten streets or in the fading echo of laughter, but here, suspended between what was and what will never be."
"And in this mirror, I see... my doppelgänger? A shadow. No, it's more like a reminiscence of a self I never acknowledged. The question hangs like a noose around a thought not yet born."
"Do mirrors dream of empty rooms and half-finished sentences? Because, if they do, they must dream of me, of us, of all the reflections left warped by time."
"Once, there was a garden here, or was it just an illusion spun from the dust of memories? Now, only weeds and wild dreams grow untended, uncaring for the edges of reality."