As dusk settled, the horizon turned into a canvas smeared with burning pastels. Like linseed oil trails on canvas abstracting the pensive dawn. Each step along the mirror path mirrored the unspoken symphony of thoughts dancing detched to the distant shore as dilating pulsars.
Under the whispers of glowing mist that touched the skin like forgotten lullabies, One'd pause, awaiting quiet reflections that dared not to surface. Yet their absence felt like the gentle brush of a distant past— A flicker unrecorded in scrolling stars.
Visit the Garden of Echoes Steps in Samarkand's Mirror MazeAlone amid spectral blooms, light slumbering in each drops' edge, A trail walked through a world echoing one's desires— Seeking, finding, albeit disquietude lingered, but binaries were absent. Only neutrals harmonizing among twilight shards chasing reflection beneath a sea of stars.