The still whisper of night speaks through digital corridors, where the echoes of yesterday’s dreams hang suspended, heavy, yet liberating.
Shadows paint themselves on the edges of perception, a gallery of unwritten thoughts. What do they want? Only the wind knows, and it can’t tell you, for it forgets as it travels.
In the grasp of a moment, when clarity dances with confusion, tools of reflection dive into the void. They wear masks sculpted from light and shadow.
The horizon bends to greet the unseen, and the reflective surfaces ripple, not with water, but with the essence of what could be, if only for a heartbeat.
Take these tools, not in hand, but in heart. Let them guide your shadow through the landscapes of the unknowable.