“Did you hear that?” someone asked, but the question was lost to the wind.
In the corners where voices tessellate into memories, we find remnants of laughter, grumbles like fading rain. A forgotten joy, perhaps a worn-out secret tucked away.
Time blurs, like ink running through the pages of dreams. Are we merely reflections whispering to one another? Today feels heavy with unspoken words – like how light can escape the reach of flesh, yet it flickers in the chaos.
What happens to echoes when they collide with silence? They dance, chasing the shadow of another moment.
Imagine a gathering of fragmented thoughts, stitched together.
“Intentions are like shadows,” someone said once, “they follow but can never catch.” Words that hold weight in their absence.
Yesterday? Tomorrow? Just fragile illusions where whispers bask in echoes.