Amid the golden haze of a setting sun, fragments of memory linger like ghosts in a once-vibrant ballroom. The sound of laughter, or perhaps a forgotten promise, echoes through the corridors of an aged mind. A girl with ribbons in her hair—was she real, or just a specter of a long-lost childhood?
The scent of orange blossoms mingles with the salty kiss of the sea—a collage of misplaced moments, stitched together by time's relentless hand. Standing on the edge of this twilight realm, the horizon blurs; past and present entwine in a dance as old as the stars.
An old man's voice, crackling like dry autumn leaves, tells stories of a forgotten place—a meadow where children's shadows played under an eternal sky. Yet, as the tale unfolds, it becomes unclear whether the meadow is real or a figment of dreams.
Ocean Garden
Past Lives
Embers
We gather these fleeting moments, like butterflies caught in a web of twilight secrets. We try to remember, but the truth is, we're just trying to forget.