In the hollow echo of an unsaid word, where dusk meets the glint of stars, there lies a trace, invisible to the unwritten heart.
Once, a lone flutter of wings, veiled by a phantom haze, painted the sky. Lila stood under its shadow, yearning to touch the fleeting narrative spun by unseen hands.
Down the unmarked corridors of dreams, through tides of whispered desire, echoes of laughter bounce between veils, unwoven yet undeniable.
We learned, amidst spectral dances, that each heartbeat traces lines on the invisible parchment of existence. One can only wonder where it leads.
Enter the Silhouette