Emerging like specters from the fog of yesterdays, thoughts cascade inexplicably; do they speak? Or merely echo?
Rewind—ruminated reflections swirl in dance, a juxtaposition of grand epochs; lost time where clocks melt into fragility.
Electrical staccatos of intertwined destinies {fizz, buzz, spark} ignite the senses—uncertain and yet, vibrant! Dissonance gasoline igniting the engines of soul-copters soaring.
Latching onto the vines of memory’s web, a frayed thought dips, wraps itself tightly around insatiable dreams of what could have been.
Echoes ripple, flipping through pages of moments long faded—read aloud the shadows that linger in their essence. Time is a carousel, dizzying and delightful.
Links flow like the ever-so-slightest breath of wind upon the surface of rippling water, consider the ripple effects on the canvas of existence.
What lurks beneath the depths of perception? Memories? Or are they mere specters of imagination?