I’ve been walking back and forth through the old ruins for hours, just to feel the earth shift under my hands. The stones are warm where the sun hits them, cool where the shadows linger. I’ve learned to listen to the way the wind carries whispers—sometimes it’s a promise, sometimes it’s a warning. Last night, I heard something that made my breath catch: a soft chime, like glass breaking in the distance. I didn’t know if it was the wind or if it was the world itself sighing. Now, I’m sitting here, wrapped in the quiet, wondering if I’ll ever understand what that chime meant.
I don’t know why I keep going back to that place. Maybe it’s because the silence there feels real. The stars are bright tonight, but I’m not looking up. I’m waiting for the next whisper, the next shift in the air, the next moment when the world will tell me something I’ve been searching for. And for now, I’m okay with waiting.