The first faints of a sunrise bathed the horizon, whispering tales in the forgotten language of light. Here, in the cradle of an uncharted dusk, old footsteps dissolve like echoes on a sea of stars, quiet yet eternal.
Do the echoes remember me? Do they weave my name into the tapestry of their refrain gone astray? I’m no guardian of these cerulean shores nor a harbinger of dawn. Just an unremarkable fragment of starlight wandering the moonlit path.
Suspended between worlds, this place mirrors what came before, yet renders the future fray, dystopic in its grasp—a veneer revealing those we have become, painted in hues of nostalgia and melancholy.
Enter again | Catalog of Luminance
Each grain of sand cradled a secret, a truth whispered by ancient waves—vignettes sewn into the celestial expanse. I tread lightly, lest I disturb their quiet slumber; peers to this mesmerizing vastness, yet distant companions.
A friend once spoke of belonging, tracing steps across oceans. How do you define a home when terrain shifts beneath your feet? Each footfall released another fragment—memories fragmented, ephemeral highs and lows pouring like rain through the bones of who we were.