The train rumbled beneath us, a steel serpent slithering through the city veins. Amidst the hum, a voice broke the monotony, soft as the evening breeze yet firm as a mountain. "Have you ever wondered," it asked, "why the sky blushes at dusk?"
We turned, peering into the crowd, seeking the source of this whispered curiosity, but found only strangers lost in their own reveries. The voice continued, now almost a melody weaving through the steel and concrete tapestry.
"Imagine," it said, "that each star is a wish long forgotten, flickering in the depths of the universe. They shimmer not for the dreamers, but for the doers, those who dare to chase the horizon."
With each proclamation, the mundane transformed into the extraordinary; the everyday became a canvas for kaleidoscopic visions. As we listened, colors danced in the air, invisible rhythms guiding our thoughts.
We stepped off the train, hearts lighter, minds liberated. The voice lingered like a distant echo, a promise of beauty hidden within the ordinary.
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