The air is thick with whispers; each shadow a fleeting thought, a trace of existence, suspended and fragmented like glass. Memories dance on the periphery, uninvited but familiar. They flicker, modulating between clarity and silhouette.
"When did the rain carry your laughter, turning sunlight into a mosaic of reflections?" A child’s voice fades into the distance, chasing sunlight slipping between fingers. Pages of a book, long unread, stack like ruins in a forgotten library.
Each sigh echoed into the vastness, a reminder. Porcelain dreams huddle like frightened birds, wistfully glancing into the glare which might engulf them. Silence hovers, absolute yet fragile.
like transparent rhythms... and the fragments of light that scatter.