A silvered surface gleams with hushed promise, inviting a gaze that lingers longer than reason permits. Within its depths, stories untold depict the husks of lives lived river-wise, echoing the echoes of echoes.
Lean closer to hear the murmurs merge into notes of descent—palettes of the void—where serenity arms itself against the raucous soliloquy of nostalgia. Emotions reflected seem distant yet recognized, like a child's forgotten melody.
“We sang to ourselves, as echoes in empty bells…”
Visit the Hall of Silence Enter the Mirror of Whispers