In the fractured silence, the mirror reflects not what is, but what could have been. Pieces of a forgotten song echo, washed away by waves of memory.

The image gazes back, questioning motives left untold, asking what lies beneath the surface— where the ugly truth lurks, not in the form of a monster, but of an endless echo.

Have you asked the mirror what it sees when you turn away? As the fragile boundary shivers, it whispers tales of roads never traveled, ghosts in the mist of choices not made.

Go to Whispering Walls
Recollections of Loss
Empty Echoes