The air chuckled quietly, a symphony of silent echoes in the mind's uncharted forests. Glistening under unseen suns, they wore the patina of forgotten moments, statues of a past that was never present. Floating like thoughts on the ocean of time, they called out. Can you hear them?
Are they looming, or are they watching? The answer drips slowly like honey from the mind's hive. Each sculpture, each curve, a witness to stories untold.
On a Tuesday that felt like a Sunday in reverse, I passed the figure carved from expectations, its eyes made of mirrors reflecting back other stories. Stories told by the hands of the universe, a universe that only now has words. Have you touched one? The question ripples through time's endless corridors.