The echoes of yesterday's rain touch the earth, sending ripples through the very fabric of time. Each drop a memory, a story left untold, woven into the lattice of the cosmos.
"Do you remember the way the shadows danced?" The thought, unbidden, slipped through the cracks of consciousness, like a breeze tracing forgotten melodies.
In the depths of silence, a voice whispers—"You are never alone in your thoughts." Are these my thoughts or echoes of someone else's dreams?
Follow the whispers...
The smell of sandalwood fills the air, a fragrance from a distant past, anchoring me to the present yet swirling in its own reverie. Such is the nature of identity, a tapestry of sensory imprints.
Listen to the echoes...
A flickering light, perhaps a firefly, dances at the edge of reality. Its luminescence is a reminder that even the smallest beings leave their mark on the canvas of existence.
Enter the interstitial...