Through rustling whispers amidst shadows and sepia-toned frames, she wanders, tracing the outline of a silence bathing the grayscale streets. The absence of sound permeates, with motions amplified by the flicker of imperfectly rolled film.

A swing's creak — inaudible. A knowing exchange of glances, captured softly in the etching light of distant reels. Coordinates dissolve into forgotten prose; a personal latitude within the lines of projected history.