Lonely

The sky forgets her name. She walks where no path welcomes, dust clinging to the quiet of her steps.

Time slips past her, indifferent and unhurried. She speaks, and the wind answers— not with words, but with absence.

Memories follow like worn silk, faded, fraying at the edges.

She is not searching. There is nothing to find. Only the long drift of becoming less.

midjourney + tachyons+ psychenizer + iphone prores + premiere