Somewhere Forgotten
Walls hold the shape of conversations that never finished.
Time moves differently, pausing where it feels necessary.
Objects rest without purpose or explanation.
The air feels patient, not empty.
Memories drift through like strangers who do not introduce themselves.
There is no urgency to understand what was lost.
Even absence feels like a kind of presence.
The ground carries weight without complaint.
Leaving does not feel like a departure, only a soft adjustment.
What was forgotten does not protest.
It remains unchanged by neglect.
Somewhere, it continues quietly being.
We Win Together
One Mission
One Goal
See you at the top
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Original post by @dobartim
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