Have you ever heard the whispers behind the ticking clocks? Those quiet moments that flutter like pages in an unseen book, telling tales of distant landscapes and forgotten dreams.
I remember the summer timelapse vividly—days pooled like sunlight in silence, and voices echoed softly, sculpted by the gentle brush of wind. You know those times, right? When everything moves around you but you stay anchored in a sleepy reverie.
Sometimes I sit here, wrapped in these echoes, thinking about how the world whispers different stories. Today, if you listen closely, you might hear one about the dimly-lit café, or perhaps a tale from the unseen roads crisscrossing the mind's horizon.