Memory of the violet shadows as they danced over porcelain faces in a sky once blue.
A woman whispers to the sea, her words shape the tide and echo in the salt of forgotten dreams. Beneath the waves, a melody of rusted clocks and unmanned ships glides silently.
Fragments of laughter in a room where sunlight falls like autumn leaves through colorless windows.
In the garden of lost cigars where every leaf is a secret, the sun writes poems that the night will never understand.
Dreams of a staircase that climbs down into itself, where echoes remember the forgotten hum of an ancient clock.
Somewhere else, a telephone ring fades into a song sung by faded portraits—silent witnesses to the ebb of time and tide.
Follow the Echo | Chase the Delusion