In the folds of silence, where shadows whisper, I find remnants of dreams untold. The walls echo with murmurs only the wind understands, stories of light and absence.
Reflective pools of thought ripple in shadows cast by truths yet to be embraced. Here, in the void, whispers from a forgotten past offer no comfort, only the chill of knowing.
Beyond the façade of existence lies a corridor of unseen doors. Each handle is a memory smeared in the fog of what once was, or never was.
Pursue the Murmurs