You are currently viewing They met on a summer afternoon, when the sun was warm, and the world felt wide open. Their laughter filled long days, and their words, though simple, meant everything. For a time, it felt like forever. But as seasons changed, so did they, drifting apart like leaves carried by the wind.

They met on a summer afternoon, when the sun was warm, and the world felt wide open. Their laughter filled long days, and their words, though simple, meant everything. For a time, it felt like forever. But as seasons changed, so did they, drifting apart like leaves carried by the wind.

Now, with only memories left, they realize how short those moments of love were. Yet, here they are, feeling the echoes of a bond that refuses to fade, even as they try to let go. Love was brief, but forgetting โ€“ thatโ€™s the journey that lasts.

As Neruda wrote: โ€œ๐‹๐จ๐ฏ๐ž ๐ข๐ฌ ๐ฌ๐จ ๐ฌ๐ก๐จ๐ซ๐ญ, ๐Ÿ๐จ๐ซ๐ ๐ž๐ญ๐ญ๐ข๐ง๐  ๐ข๐ฌ ๐ฌ๐จ ๐ฅ๐จ๐ง๐ .โ€

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