In a side street, moments hang suspended in the air, translucent threads weaving randomness into a tapestry of soft echoes. Underneath it all, a hum: collected whispers of silk-smooth stories, only half revealed.
Last night I dreamt of cities wrapped within shadows, each corner turned holding a promise barely heard... a murmur beneath forgotten dreams—did you hear it too?
Walking down a familiar path, interrupted by the unknown symmetry of rustling leaves, a pattern seen only in glimpses so fleeting, many never notice.
Soft sighs intermixed with the swishing fan leaves on a summer day build cathedrals of noise and light in the city afternoon. Under hasty constructing guides, curiosity thrives silently.
“There were times when silence was all we shared.” The train never arrives, yet it fills every station — a carriage of stilled winds.
Yet sometimes, under the broken light near the river there, shadows play truth-teller with those inclined to look. Do we follow?
Follow the Trail | More Whispers