The old woman at the bus stop used to speak of dreams like photos fading in the sun, their edges softening into the ether.
In the café, notes slipped under tables tell stories of morning glories blooming in concrete jungles, unnoticed yet persistent.
From alleyways, voices murmur tales of chance encounters, where a simple smile could spark an uncharted journey everlasting.
Among the dusty library shelves, forgotten letters weave silent narratives of tangled fates, binding strangers across time.