Wandering through endless halls, whispers of forgotten when and where laps over freshly varnished wood that never was, not here—but there. Do you remember the sound? Like ripples after a stone's descent told by liquid tongues. <--->
The echo encapsulates moments in glass with frost, fragile yet unbreakable. Passing shadows play upon your street, familiar yet foreign. You could swear you’ve heard this before, seen, but when? Lost among the starlit parchments and echoing abysses.

Echoes in aural volumes, measured not by distance, but depth, tracing roots beneath cities of perceptions left unattended. The music that follows, where does it stem? Clouded paths lined by spectral footprints lead into dusk's embrace.
There's a room not quite like any other, hiding among phantom avenues with doors that only open at twilight; do they invite you in, or out? Questions lingering like white smoke curling through a midnight curtain—catch it and see, or let it go.