In the stillness of this room, the air hums with forgotten dialogues. The mirror reflects shadows of once-lived moments, casting déjà vu like an artist spins webs of possibility and past.
Here, the walls hold stories in their quiet embrace, tales told in hushed tones by those who dared to dream too close to the sun. Each corner, a memory caught in mid-flight, suspended between past and future.
The whispers call out in familiar tongue, a voice like home, echoing in a space defined by time's twilight. We are both strangers and old companions, threading paths through halls of grainy recollection.
Have we walked these paths before? The question lingers, while the room softly smiles at secrets it dare not unfold.