The wind whispers secrets through the cracks of perception, unraveling the tapestry of now into threads of what always was.
Here lies the boundary of all beginnings, where echoes dissolve into shadows that dance excitedly and without direction.
What is the weight of a moment that refuses to exist? Can a dream dream itself when all it does is wake? Symphonies of the silent call to the void, and the void answers with a reflection of itself in reverse.
In the labyrinth of choices unchosen, paths fold into origami of oblivion, brittle and beautiful. The inside sings to the outside, a song without a melody, a dance without steps.
This is where the clock stands still, cradling the paradox of time-traveling moments caught in a fleeting eternity.