A single step disturbs the silence; it reverberates, calling upon forgotten shadows to awaken and drift through long interstitial spaces.
The moon hangs limp above infinite corridors, its silver presence a solemn guardian. Dust, aware of no source, dances in the muted beams.
Whispered fragments of time linger, dissolved into whispers, woven seamlessly into tapestry threads of light:
In the margins of moments, we ponder beneath veiled constellations, mysteries turning like cogs in the machine that never started.
In the cavernous halls of unwritten dreams, the shadows of seekers breathe deeply, dreaming words unfinished. The seeker stops; a breath, a flutter.