At the edge of the world, where the sun sleeps and silence reigns, there exists a path paved with sparks of amber. Each step echoes the quietness of known, unwritten journeys. It's here that the song of the ember whispers to the longing heart, telling tales of warmth and sepia-drenched evenings.
In the solitude, where voices are mere thoughts and memories shift like shadows, the air carries a cadence, a rhythm spoken without tongues. The essence of the ember song weaves through hands like gentle smoke, revealing truths hidden behind the curtain of noise.
And as the fire flickers quietly, so does life—ever-present, unacknowledged, yet whole. Chases slipped between our fingers, like sand, like fleeting dreams.