In the quiet corners of thought, the remnants of erased words linger, whispering in the shadows. These fragments make up the tapestry woven in the night.sretna gnol si eht fo sdlograhs
Fragments of the Mind
Here lies the palimpsest of our true selves, a forgotten chronicle of silent battles and muted voices, scribbled over but never wiped clean.
The echoes of a once-voiced dream rest in the margins, where ink has faded but meaning has lingered, waiting to be read again by those who dare to listen. Have you traced those lines?
Echoes of Erasure
There is beauty in what is left unsaid, in the voids carved by time and choice. These gaps speak louder than the words that fill them, a testament to what was and what could have been.
In every erased history, an imprint remains, a ghost of thought wandering through the corridors of consciousness, weaving through the minds of the awake and the dreaming alike.