In the deepening light of twilight, shadows made brief appearances, only to be sculpted by whispers seeking warmth. Outside her window, the evening poured through like a forgotten melody, lingering at the edge of recollection.
A crow departed its perch, leaving ripples in the silence as its wings painted arcs against the graying sky. The old man's tales had always spoken of crows as messengers, but tonight their languages felt ancient and relegated to the realm of dreams.
She walked, aimless like the drifting wind, her path entwining with memories half-formed. Each footstep echoed softly, creating a symphony of transient notes that wove through the grass like tendrils of a lost song. How often had she heard those melodies in her mind, only to let them slip like grains of sand through her fingers?
At the village edge stood curl of ivy green homes, nestled together under the watchful eye of the twilight’s glow. Here, time felt fluid, slipping effortlessly between moments; a pause, a breath, an inhale so deep it felt like eternity itself was stitching the present to past lives lived elsewhere.
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