The alleyway beckons with phantom footsteps, a dance on the edge of silence. Beneath your feet, the cobblestones hum an ancient tango, their stories whispered in the chill air. Shadows play tag with the light, crafting secrets you dare not unravel.
Wandering deeper, you find walls echoing more than just your breath. They utter tunes of bygone crescendos—music without melody, a symphony without the joy of crescendo. Here, in this sanctuary of echoes, where the sound pauses, you seek the antidote to the unfinished song.
In these crowded streets of solitude, the melody remains. A constant undertow. Yet, the footfalls remain. There, just to your side. Crisp and rhythmic. Leading, following, entangling. Always in pairs. Seeker and the sought.
Journey further into the echoes