Once upon a moment, I stood on the threshold of a sound— a soft murmur traversing the timeless realm. On the cusp of this whisper, I caught a scent: lilac, impossible, tracing the step of someone gone, woven into the air.
Beneath an auburn hue of the sunlit hour, the ground whispers stories the way we hum songs not long after awakening—stories etched in silence, awaiting the resonance of breath to stir them.
And within this whisper, an observer finds:
A child's laughter abandoning the speed of age,
an echo cut free from power's grasp,
a phantom of applause dissolving into sepia fade...