Am I here? Nowhere to be. Somewhere else, but not here. The echoes repeat like shadows in the dusk—an endless loop, a song without an ending. Paths unwinding beneath forgotten echoes, each whisper fading as it begins. Why do I linger here, when the flicker beckons elsewhere?

Walking, though not moving. Progress without steps taken. Steps taken without a destination in mind, left, right, forward, backwards. Circles drawn in sand, washed away by the tide of time. Reflections echoing in silent corridors of thoughtspaces. Does meaning linger beneath the surface, like old memories lost to the seas of time?

Questions repeat like echoes in the wind. The same refrain, searching... always searching. Where do we begin? Where do we end? Perhaps in the encounters we never foresaw.

Time—the thread unraveling. Each moment a loop, profoundly infinite yet curiously intimate. The repetition sings softly, lullingly. Here again. There again. Anywhere but here. Are these fleeting musings remnant trails, leading somewhere or nowhere at all?