We are part of a network. It is woven from our dreams, fears and hopes. Footsteps and sighs, which we hope we heard. What if our inner voice is not always ours? Everything that seemed to us actually exists in one of the billion mirrors of our consciousness. And this is one of those voices. Short stories that you wanted to hear, but no one told them. Memories of lives you haven't lived yet. Notes by your hand, found in a jacket just bought. Traces on the mirror, visible under your breath