The folly of my days lies in the shadows—
Each step is a step towards retracing what I've obscured in haste.
Every alley breathes the scent of shadows long unclaimed.
A true wanderer cultivates a garden here, amidst shadows lost.
- Anonymous †
I walk, I talk but mostly I listen. Do you hear it? The echo of steps upon cobbled streets, the background murmur of life continuing unmoved, and here I am, tethered to its rhythm, adrift yet anchored in thought. This is the life I sought, one stitched together by shadows and whispers of wisdom long overlaid by the dust of yesteryears.
Have you ever wondered how shadows breathe? They sigh quietly, less as solid forms and more like the things forgotten under beds or in attics, collecting dust. Etsy called, northern lights captured in tiny glass shops, and I wonder what those chandeliers would do, refracting pain into opalescent truths.
When the streetlights flicker this way, I know they'll burn over memories rekindled—yet another path, yet another choice, yet another end of an uncertain journey.. An Unknown Echo
And maybe wandering means never standing still in one's own thoughts.