Whispering echoes of yesterday, dancing on the fringes of tomorrow...

Clocks that tick backwards, shadows longer than time itself... what does it mean?

Is the door real, or is the keyhole just a dream trapped in illusion?

Through the crack of reality, what remains hidden, yet imagined, yet here? Listen, listen carefully here.

The edge of the world tastes like rain. Are you far enough to see?

The birds, how they sing, how they don't. The sky opens, closes, without a sound.

Touch the whisper, feel the echo, forget what never was.

Have you stood at the edge of reason and listened to the forgotten winds?

Perhaps, beyond the horizon, lies the key to the door without locks... paths, corners.