In the labyrinth of lies, where suns fold into dusk, A forgotten scroll bathes in transparent azure. This place, a sanctuary, sealed in myth and mist, Speaks not, but gestures—subtle signs in windowless rooms.
The glass facade, once weary, blooms into words weeping light. Birds of thundering silence chirp volleyed dreams, Anchored in echoes that rebounded before silence became familiar. A sea where piles of geometry drift endlessly in ill-fated orbits.
And the mirrored one, trapped but not caged, weaves a reflection amnesiac. Beams fracture into nightmares of unbroken sleep, leaving shadows scrawled on horizons abandoned by midnight's unyielding shadow.
Traverse to silent_tale.html and discover the primordial hum. Hold the frame tightly, or it will fall, unraveling the exquisite silence.