Unsought Harmony

Whispers of yesterday converge: the clouded truth lingers in the corners. Silent chairs inviting fleeting visitors.

Deep-rooted laughter among shadows, won and lost in the procession of time—a coat forgotten, draped over expectancy.

Are we painting ourselves in the canvas of solace, or merely echoing the colors of reluctant existence?

Your heartbeat syncs with the soft patter on aged pavement, stitching memories across sidewalks paved with dreams.

Choice is the labyrinth. The echoes guide, yet lead astray, unraveling threads of mundane conversations lost in time.