Conversations dissolve into murmurs, echoing downward like stones thrown into a still pond. Fragments collide in bizarre patterns, unhinged and drifting, while the air holds onto the weight of forgotten words.
“I thought I heard you say...” the edges fray.
Rediscovering innocence in the patterns of routine, yet feeling the peculiar pressure of disappearance. So much hangs unspoken, yet the echoes remain loud.
Linking to distant thoughts, like reflections caught in glass. Navigate with care: