The cultivar embraces cold breath, energetic. Along the marbled corridor, stone beneath her aura shivers in soundless contact. Each step—sonorous, telling—an invocation lingering past its thread of Sands of Time.
She walked the evening's spectral arc, script encased within her memory, alight with peculiar undulations. Seen but never grasped—the light sparkled when seated before the unseen curtain. Yet reality, vexed yet gentle, whispered in harmonic unravelings.
Decode the Echo