Can you hear the silence speak?
In the deep halls where dust clings like sacred ash, echoes become the elusive ghosts. A hushed breath sends shivers through the absent-found moments occupied once by shadows. Listen, as walls, strong with stories untold, murmur a sepulchered symphony through the cavernous voids of humanity betrayed.
The cold mantle of interminable night and forgotten daylight stretches beyond the tactile, merging into a realm where echoes become a deed rewriting the frayed edges of time. Each footfall becomes a verse, spoken not by voice but by silence, within the susceptibility of ancient stone and checkered marble. Every beat of the weight forth gives rise to the crescendo of whispers negotiated over time's diluted mist passed through freight winds.
Footsteps, repeated and indefinite...