The gears turn, and the world whispers secrets in a language only understood by those who listen with their hearts, or perhaps their elbows. Ever wondered what tickles the insides of a clock when it's feeling dramatic? I imagine it might be a dance of gears, a tango of springs.
There's something peculiar about the abyss when you peer into its depths. You might expect darkness, or maybe a void, but there's an echo, a resounding whisper of shadows that seem to hum a forgotten tune. Have you heard it? Or perhaps you just pretended not to.
Like shutters in a storm, we retain our secrets behind eyelids that cannot blink. Shadows cast by thoughts not yet spoken, like words waiting to tumble off the edge of a cliff and into some abyss of meaning.
Careful now, as you tread these pages. Each click might lead you deeper into reflections not your own. Explore further, if you dare: