In the stillness of the frosty pond, where the cold air breathes crystalline vapors, the mind finds its echo. Each ripple tells a story, gently fading into nothingness, yet lingering in some hidden alcove of memory.
A whisper once wandered here, tracing patterns in the ice, marking the passage of time with invisible fingers.
You were here, weren't you? Chasing shadows beneath the ice, your laughter a melody lost to the winds. The past and future merge, slipping through grasp like frost under a warming sun.
Follow the frost's whisper: Step into Echo
Or the silence glinting: Gaze into Silence