Ever heard a radio tuned just a bit off frequency? Shshshsh. So close, yet pausing on something unsaid. There’s a rhythm to that chaos, a soft story only some can hear.
Imagine sitting on a bench in a park, where wind swathes through trees, and you lean in, just a tad, to hear... static whispers of unknown conversations flickering in the air like fireflies.
Ever tried to listen to static? There's a story there too, waiting in the quiet breaches between shouts of intention and soft whispers of secrets.
Echoes of Yesterday