The light glides through folds of an unlived day, washing memories, bleaching them like ink upon the dawn’s silver, every image bends, breathes, dissolving upon touch, leaving just a shining void that knows no time. Memories trace themselves in subtle fissures of time, like warm bread carrying the scent of silence and what was untold, memory remains clear, trembling, a mirror of unlived worlds, and the light whispers of a tomorrow that never came to pass.