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Each passing scent holds whispers of moments lost--an afternoon quilted with sun here, an echo of sorrow spilling from a nocturnal bloom, weaving our memories into the folds of spiraling time. - Maya Lin Each passing scent holds whispers of moments lost--an afternoon quilted with sun here, an echo of sorrow spilling from a nocturnal bloom, weaving our memories into the folds of spiraling time. - Maya Lin Each passing scent holds whispers of moments lost--an afternoon quilted with sun here, an echo of sorrow spilling from a nocturnal bloom, weaving our memories into the folds of spiraling time. - Maya Lin