Do you ever feel like the whispers are trying to tell a story that's forever eluding us? You walk through the dusk, and suddenly the chill seems less cold, more like a trying to sketch an idea across the fog of your mind.
that everything's bound by threads we can't see, like webs on a moonlit night. Tapestries silently woven, whispering to the stars. Just yesterday, I saw the dawn take a sigh, and there it was – a curious dance of colors above the eastern edge.
You might ask what I'm going on about, and that's alright. Sometimes what matters isn't the words, but the pauses between them. It's where every nod and silence carries its own weight. You can feel the tension, the promise of something unfolding, maybe even a secret waiting to be revealed.