In the haze, there lies a paradox unsolved yet burning, a flickering veil draping over centuries. Smoke, born of fire and destined to dissipate, stands as both beginning and end. Yet, in the embered whispers, there hide stories, narratives crafted by time's hand.
To understand smoke is to embrace fluidity in thought, for like smoke columns twisting within still air, we adapt, change, and etch new stories into existence. Each ember, a reminder of potential and release; journeys ventured in realms abstract to tangible hieroglyphs on wind's canvas.
History is carried by the slightest breeze, its course uncertain. The embers illuminate dark paths until their demise, offering shards of inspiration. Yet still whispers continue unnoticed as life's prolong murmurs.
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