Once, there was a path visible solely in shadows.
Older than memory, these paths wound silently across days and nights, unwitnessed by those who walked beneath them, but felt in the unexplained pull of dreams. Stars did not die, they simply forgot how to divert their courses with whispers we could never grasp.
Do you remember when you were lost among constellations you could not name? In the park that summer, when the world shifted ever so slightly beneath the weight of knowledge just out of reach?'; ?>Map your path between lost and found. Let invisible light guide you through unseen corridors.
We drew our dreams in the dust, names we cannot recall etched alongside faces faded into history. Poet-sages of bygone eras traced the language of statues in nightscapes, every breath aligning our fates with unseen constellations.
Do you see them now?
In the web of invisible constellations, we find the whispers of reclaimed stories. Stories that emerge from silence and await souls brave enough to illuminate their paths, hands tracing lines of solace through darkened ether.