Have you ever felt the quiet hum of existence beneath your thoughts, an echo you cannot place, reverberating through the chambers of your conscious?

In the paleolithic silence of modernity, whispers trace the outline of an idea, an almost human thought caught in layers of forgotten whispers. It permeates through dreams left unchiseled in the rock of time.

The court of echoes composed by philosophers distills their doubt into sentiments captured by age. Shadows of early conceptions make their home among metaphysical fossils unearthed by curious breath.

Chase the Echo

Is there not a fine juxtaposition found between whispered dreams and thoughts set in unyielding sediment? Such is life, such is our journey—a paradox gorgeously carved.

An imaginary sun, simmering eternally on the horizon, leaves enigmatic traces, woven and redundant in an arching expanse of night.