Time, as it breezes against the brink of consciousness, is mere phantasmagoria—scattered remnants of thoughts tickling the corners of memory’s gaze. What if each second is a tear in the membrane of reality, exposing an echo of a now forgotten past?
The clock steals away reflections, a thief cloaked in familiar rhythms. Each heartbeat, a moment stolen; each pause, a faintness longing to become more than fleeting shadows in the caverns of existence.
Delve deeper into this intertwined web: