In this corridor of glass and forgotten echoes...

Beyond the threshold: a deluge of whispers, soft as the fading night.
Each word a droplet in the vast ocean of memory, rippling through time.

A voice, not my own, murmurs in the twilight: "Remember, remember..."

The mirror falters as shadows dance, longing for shapes once known.
Eyes gaze back, but see what lies beneath the surface.

Fragments of an Echo

Reflections by the River