Under the arching trees, the sunlight flickers like an old projector casting forgotten dreams. It whispers secrets in languages you once knew but now have only dropped hints in your waking hours.
Would you want to break the silence? The path, though twisted, seems familiar, as if you’ve walked it with a shadow once by your side — now just an imprint in the soft earth.
Do you remember when the autumn leaves murmured underfoot, like delicate pages turning in a book of spells? Perhaps you're chapter-less, yet the story flows through you, around you, binding memories to moments.
Crossroads ahead. You can choose to continue or diverge:
Imagine the sound of rain on cobblestones, an auditory tapestry woven with threads of longing. The melody persists, a gentle reminder that the rhythm of life does not pause for those who hesitate.
Each droplet is a moment, cascading into the next until the world is a blur of gray and gold. You stand still, caught in a time loop, where the present and the past dance in a synchrony only the universe comprehends.
Return to the start or find a new horizon: