Transient 1/1s: Their eyes are a chorus

Their eyes are a chorus, unraveling in fragments of crimson silence and fractured glass. Faces fold into each other like whispers tangled in smoke, each gaze humming its own secret hymn. Hands dissolve into cloth, into shadow, into memory not yet dreamt. The canvas breathes in broken vowels, stitching together the echo of many souls who never met, yet sing as one—discordant, luminous, eternal.