edges blur: | what is | | never was| echoes ripple reaching
here and now is like a shimmering veil dropping into the abyss
silent screams of a moment frozen—dreams cast their own shadows
In the dim haze of unreality, where the clock ticks backwards and the sun whispers secrets, shadows become their own stories.
The light that shapes them is invisible—yet oh so palpable.
Walk, run—feel the ground, or perhaps, it is only an illusion beneath splashes of color.
"Did you see that?" she asks, or perhaps it was a question posed to no one in particular.
A silhouette capers in the periphery, laughing without sound.
We reach out, fingers just missing the touch, the connection, the memory that never was our own.