The architect of silence builds rooms without walls, furnishing only the spaces between thoughts.
Our tactile memories, much like reflections in still water, linger in those silent corners, untouched yet ever present.
Consider the quantum reflections, where each silent corner could represent an alternate reality, a moment not taken, a word unsaid. In the monastery of self, silence cultivates gardens of wistful longing.
Is it not melancholic how reflections can be both forward-looking and retrospective? The corridors of the mind echo with past decisions, casting shadows in the twilight of one's contemplation.