Echoes of the Mindstorm

Somewhere in the sifting sands of yesterday, the echoes linger. The distant laughter of what was, fading like an old photograph at the edges. It's the smell of rain-soaked earth, a promise unfulfilled. There, beneath the oak tree, we carved our names. Did we think they'd last forever?

I see the faces in the shadows, familiar yet elusive, as if mists of time cloud their contours. A gentle breeze stirs the leaves, whispering secrets I've forgotten. It's a labyrinth of corridors in my mind, where sunlight dances on dust motes, and every corner turned reveals an unseen door.

Memories are like autumn leaves, vibrant in their decay. They tumble, they scatter, they cling desperately before surrendering to the wind. There was a song we used to sing, a melody woven into the fabric of our youth. Do you remember the words, or was it just the tune that haunted us?