Silent whispers in the corridors,
of a labyrinth unending.
Murmurs of yesterday,
unearthing stories of tomorrow,
if one dares to listen.
In the heart of the maze, there lies a secret, a humble shrine to moments frozen in time. A place where echoes of laughter blend with the soft rustle of forgotten leaves, where pathways diverge only to meet again, weaving tales of encounters never made. Each step resonates, a reminder of footsteps past and to come, trailing through the silence like a dream that refuses to fade.
They say within these walls and winding paths, you can hear the stories of those who wandered before. Listen closely, and you might catch the fragments of a journey once taken—an old man's riddle, a woman's song, children's game, or the toast of friends unseen. The whispers guide you, misguide you, until you find yourself both lost and found within the folds of time.