In the quiet folds of dusk, secrets murmur against the grain of twilight’s tapestry. The mirrors echo back dreams never spoken, shadows coiling like smoke around forlorn words.
Captive Whispers linger in their frames, swirling in a dance that reflects not reality, but the essence of being untold. Here, unsaid truths resonate longer, haunting like flickering candlelight along a forgotten corridor.
Beyond the glass, the reach of silence stretches, cascading in waves across a forgotten ocean of time, where voices submerged lie echoing in eternal refrain.
Touch the mirror and feel the whispers of tomorrow seeping through, unsated desires brushing past you like a guest you’ve forgotten to greet.
An image forms: a visage not your own, a reflection from an alternate tide, where destinies diverge with fates unscripted and written in the fog.