In the cartography of air, words are forgotten scribbles, alive in motion yet lost in silence:
A murmur spills like sand across a restless sea, where echoes chase the rhythm, but slips between delicate glances.
The leaves hold secrets, murmurs that sink into soil and rise into uncharted dreams, waiting for unwary footprints.
Fragmented laughter dances atop waves, like fleeting stars tethering twilight to dawn.
Cascading shadows hold the sun captive, promising a nighttime embrace, knitting stars into forgotten tapestries of time.
The spiraling winds read passages from the silent library of ages, waking whispers buried in the cloth of time.
Entangled moments, like dew-laden webs, shimmer in hue of echoes before they dissolve. Shall you follow?
The Hidden EchoesDistant Whisper
Invisible Footsteps