The whispers echo through corridors of yesterday, a time when clocks had no hands,
and the walls spoke in tongues unknown.
Encoded in shadows, the truth lies spiraling inward.
Dance with the dust motes, become one with the invisible, the fractals of thought revealing
themselves in labyrinthine forms.
Codes wrapped in riddles, riddles hidden in plain sight.
Look beyond the mirror's gaze, for reflection is an illusion crafted by those who fear the void.
Spiral inward, and find yourself in the spaces that exist between breaths.