The echo of a child's laughter in a park no longer standing... feels like the sky pressed against your whisper. A game, maybe, a shadow chase.

Memories are like corners in an abandoned house—dusty, hidden behind layers of time. Do you recall the scent of lavender on a summer's evening? A ghost from garden rentals.

Echoes of forgotten songs in the stairwells of old buildings... whispered through walls that just stand by and watch.

There was a map somewhere in a dream, lines and dots like constellations of forgotten journeys. A compass that never pointed north, but always home.