In the quiet moments, there lies a resonance, a whispered echo in the corridors of the mind. It sings an aria of familiar shadows, a symphony conducted by the unseen forces of time.
Have you ever felt the weight of a gaze that isn't there? Or the brush of fingers against skin, in places untouched by reality's brush? These are the frequencies unseen, the phenomena that dance just beyond the veil of sensibility.
We are but echoes ourselves, reverberating through the tunnels of existence. And as we traverse these echoes, we ask—have we not, already, lived this moment?
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