...of a soul misplaced. They walk through corridors unseen, with walls that whisper tales of yesteryears. The echo of their footsteps is a reminder of solitude; an endless expanse where light has no claim.
In this realm, time is a myth. Days bleed into nights without distinction. The air is thick with stories untold, floating like specters in the dim glow of memories, half-remembered dreams of a life once lived.
There is a silence here, profound and deep—a silence that speaks in volumes. One can almost hear the sigh of the past, brushing against the present like a lover's touch. The analysis continues, a quest for meaning amid the ashes of forgotten eras.