Sometimes, when the autumn winds sing, they carry whispers from corridors long untouched. These are not mere echoes but lullabies, wrapped gently in the skein of lingering dust.
Do you feel it? The soft tug at your memory, inviting you to follow a trail paved in silver mist. Each step resonates, not with footsteps, but with the hushed laughter of bygone days.
More whispers...Windows, they say, are the eyes to the soul, but here, they are curtains drawn against the sun, sheltering secrets that only the moon knows.
Enter a room forgotten by time...