Ever wonder what it sounds like when the world hits pause? Not the kind of pause where someone yells "timeout," but the tranquil stop. Like a gentle brake on a train, sliding on frozen tracks. Silence, in its rich tapestry, whispers.
"Do you hear the absence?" she asked me once.
There's a clock that ticks away beneath the floorboards, much like your heart sometimes mimics it. But here, the rhythm is less about urgency and more of a lazy waltz in the afternoon sun. Ever felt three o'clock's embrace? It’s a hug, really.
We ask, but do we want to know?
Imagine a forgotten garden path, tangled with bramble and dreams. We could walk it, or let it be. The two skies above—one luminous, one ink—perhaps they’ve seen it all before.
There's beauty in these unvisited spaces. Fields where the grass grows wild, freedom in every untouched blade.