In the corners where shadows play, whispers long past rest beneath layers of yesteryear's dust. The echoes are sweet, tinged with the irony of what once was, and what could be again in a world remade by dreams.
The lunatic yammers on, but do we not all ponder aloud when the moon rides high and everyone's listening? Listen, for it may just be the sound of your own musings reflected back, a mirror held to an empty room.
The streetlights flicker and cast strange shapes, dancing on the walls of your mind, where the past and future collide in a bittersweet embrace. And somewhere amidst the smoke and mirrors, we find solace in the chaos.
Would you follow the sound down the rabbit hole, or stay with the sweet echoes of this moment? The choice is as sweet as the journey.
A Fragment of Garden Lore