Signal unsteady. Waves lapping at the shores of memory, a voice murmur echoing beneath. Can you hear it? The reflections of dreams left unattended.
Transmission Xi-137: "The persistent whisper at dusk, when shadows reach their adult form, speaks of journeys untaken, echoing in the cavern of solitude. It trembles, yet it holds the warmth of forgotten fires..."
A flicker of something else — perhaps a ghost of an idea, rising to the surface. No static; only the quiet solemnity of time's passage through emptiness.
Signal liberated. The air grows dense with what-if scenarios. Between one heartbeat and the next, a symphony plays.
Transmission Theta-022: "Isolation draws a line through the mind like a river carving its path through ancient earth. Reflections dance on its surface, telling stories of suns that forgot to set..."
An untold history of imagined worlds beneath the surface. Stories whispered by the mirror that never fails to lie.