Quarantined Echoes

Descriptive Patterns In Reverse Melody

A solitary note falls, cascading like a silent stone cast into moonlit waters. Each echo is your reflection but not quite; it appears as a mist on glass, dancing with the rhythm of an unseen breeze. Shadows weave melodies unheard, cloaked in a serenade played backwards, where the end of a song whispers farewell before the gentle hello of its start.

Here, colors bleed through the cracks in time: violets swim among indigos, and ember greens flicker like memories of light. What stories do these hues tell when words are lost like echoes in a chasm? Perhaps tales of ghosts that mirror the souls they try to touch, but the touch is caress, not grasp; the notes, dance steps in reverse, only understood by hearts that know silence well.