Wordless River

Are these whispers of the river the voices we never knew, or simply reflections of ourselves echoed in silent waters? Within the flow, memories become elusive—like shadows beneath a rippling surface, blurring, merging, and fading into the current.

Remember a time when words were not needed, just the gentle murmuring of water over stones, smooth and patient? There was a comfort in that silence. It spoke volumes, in many languages of sighs, that made little sense but resonated deeply.

The river flows onward, indifferent to our contemplations. But we linger at its banks, entranced by the dance of light and shadow, and by the tender voices of echoes that call us back to moments we never seized, nor understood, yet ache to recall.

Seek the horizon beyond these echoes: hidden tracks, or allow the silent currents to carry you further: silent streams.