Within the folds of yesterday, echoes unbound, drift like autumn leaves through a forgotten glade. Breathe in the unseen world, where time loops back, stitching its own shadow into the fabric of what comes next. Moments linger, spectral, unseen, whispering secrets to those who dare to listen.
Between the tick and the tock, I find myself wandering, an unwelcome guest on a path less traveled. Paths of dust dance in the fading light – a memory of a dance yet to come, or perhaps one that has long been forgotten. Do you hear the whispering wind? It carries tales of dreams deferred and promises broken, unraveling in the twilight haze.
The bias of time skews reality, a prism refracting life into moments of clarity and confusion. See the unseen, hear the unheard. Here, where ghosts of decisions past linger, one can almost touch the specters of choices unmade, their presence felt, yet never seen.