In the quiet corners of our lives, time whispers secrets that often go unheard. It hums in the seams of every pause, stitching moments together silently yet profoundly. Do we listen, or do we create distractions to blur its voice?
Time's paradox is that it nourishes while consuming, a symbiotic assimilation of every tick. Life flows within its veins, and yet life is what it displaces, one breath at a time. The clock does not devour the garden, it nurtures it through decay.
Each whisper of time holds a mirror, reflecting desires to be noticed, understood, and somehow reconciled with our chaotic existence. Time does not judge; it offers companionship, a silent witness to our dance of growth and loss.