In the corridors of yesterday's twilight, a whisper molds into silence. Tomorrow's shadows linger,
curling around forgotten promises.
A café on a rain-slicked street, where the tables are set for conversations that never began.
A chime resounds like the echo of a mechanical bird, its song trapped in brass and glass.
Somewhere, the scent of wilted roses dances with old books, as pages forget their stories.
Beneath the veneer of memory, a quiet storm brews. Have you seen the clock tower during an eclipse
of the moon's first laughter?
Its hands turn backward, unwinding secrets buried in the dust of a thousand unopened letters.
A child's forgotten toy lies rusting, but its laughter still echoes through the dismantled breeze.
Paths cross under a neon sky, where ghosts of digital dreams flicker. Welcome to the edge of places
known but seldom visited.
The future whispers through your fingertips.
Forgotten sounds blend into a symphony only the fog can understand.