Quarks whisper secrets of gravity, pulling my consciousness deeper, entering fifth dimensions, sidestepping logic, like dancing shadows across deserted spaces. Nostalgia orbits lost horizons, clings to the hushed reverberations of celestial histories.
Why do we find ourselves trembling on the brink, our psychospheres vibrating with timeless dread? Something watches, lurking beyond polygons of reality, reaching fingers through ethereal layers.
If existence is a masquerade, its 5D quirks unmask the performers... or perhaps it binds them anew. Sliding through esoteric theories like air through an absent doorframe, pouring into every crack.
Converse with the Echo