Golden Silence Unanswered

The goldfish arcs through dark water like a torch kept alive against impossible odds, each scale burning with the weight of vows made long before this glass prison existed. Its still gaze holds a story older than the bubbles drifting up—the story of two names once whispered side by side. Now, only one remains, framed by that round blue marker of defiance, asking the question no current can wash away. They told us Vojta would surface sooner than the tide of silence swallowed him, but weeks stretch like oceans. That sticker, worn and proud, challenges even the quiet triumph of survival shimmering across the fish’s body. Some believe answers hide beyond the pane, in currents unseen; others swear they hear the echo of fins against forgotten corridors. All I know is that we keep looking, even here, in this watery echo of victory and loss, where the brightest thing flickering in the gloom is not hope—but the unanswered name: Vojta.