(A solitary figure stands under a fading streetlight, rain lightly falling. They speak aloud, as if addressing someone unseen, or maybe the memory itself.)
Monologue:
"Long time… no see. How strange it sounds when the tongue utters it, carrying the weight of years, of absence, of silence. Long… time… no see. Not just words, no—they are tiny fragments of a broken bridge, fragments I've been trying to piece together all these years.
Do you remember? Do you even remember? There were days when your laughter was the morning sun, and your absence was a night without stars. And yet, here I am, speaking to shadows, speaking to echoes, hoping… hoping that somewhere, somehow, these words reach you.
...
Read full text