"Perception is reality," murmurs the ghostly figure, barely seen, its edges fraying into the ether.
In the converging corridors of time, the voices speak: What is truth if not a shared mirage?
Shadows of philosophers linger, their words a soft echo: Perception bends along the curve of belief.
Visit the labyrinth or stay to ponder these reflections.
Become one with the whispering winds of forgotten dialects.