Once, the wind whispered names, soft like secrets caught in a dreamy sigh. ve11et path. Todal movements creaked under hues, cosmic echoes calling forth the rhymes of ancient barks. Wake at eleven and turn twice left through the hallway of shadows and murmurings. Paths Unseen direct you straight—or slightly askew, which ever pleases you more. At times the message is like dew on metal, it unfolds slowly as the day embarks on its elliptical race. Grids align in mischief, yet an honest spark remains. The lunar diagram blesses all trance-carvers. Encrypted remnants left in plain sight: another journey, perhaps?