Daybreak lights across the spectrum of silence, a perceptible vibration translating shadows into dissonance. Allow the reel to spin back, trace along the edges of what was never said. Whisper, the void echoes as antique silver flickers, in its tremor the sediment of tales untold places itself—an imposition, an arrival uninvited.

Beneath velvet curtains of night, caress the sound of absence, it turns over like a horizon longing repose, streaming tirelessly. Triangles propose stories written in dust and the alphabet of lids unblinking. Recognize fragments, textual silhouettes of cinema fade reeling into restless whispers.

Imaginary flickers turn, a dialogue between hands unseen pressing upon the canvas question mark. Follow along the edges to unravel tapes that bind. The present is a gesture repeating its lassitude, even now, how the din of completed gestures work in metronome time—that distant watch ticking.

Inside a squeaky double feature metaphor projected without lights, a manual revolution told prior yet vertices miss the compass entirely contrived.