In the quiet, shapes emerge, shadows play across the surface, whispering secrets— the heartbeat is not a drum, but a symphony hidden between moments. Structures rise and fall, a tide of thought and longing, breaths taken, then released into the void. Do you hear them? The voices beneath the concrete, the murmur of time's gentle hand... echo, dissonance.

Every heartbeat, every breath, a silent revolution, a story unfolding, yet to be told. The clock ticks, but time is an illusion, a web spun with strands of desire and decay. Opening, closing, the cycles of existence, like waves crashing against the shore of reality, each wave a thought, a fleeting dream, a shadow of a shadow... end.

The air thickens, and in the spaces between, I find you. Not as you are, but as you could be— the potential unrealized, waiting, whispering in the dark corners of my mind. Structures, yes, but also fluid, ephemeral, like mist lifting at dawn, revealing paths forgotten... light, within.