Have you ever reasonsed with your own voice from the past, hidden beneath the mirror's surface, whispering fragments of childhood streets where yellow tiles hold secrets untold? Listen closer, and you might discover why it was, once, best to trust the mirror.
Perhaps you recall sliding into shadows cast long by evening's arrival, whispers painting epochs anew. Why trust the shivering reflection? Because amidst fog-laden recollections, truths too easily shunned with clarity dance. They reflect, they beckon.
Catch a glimpse of the cityscape, where echoes of forgotten urban legends linger, binding memories with veils of smoke and mirror illusions.
Seek echoes in twilight. They hold promise for those searching amid languorous lies, gently wrapping warmth of fading light on the brow. Trust in these mirrored walls.