In the flickering embrace of twilight, beneath the murmur of leaves, the sanctuary stands untouched. A chorus of forgotten winds swirls about, weaving tales in the air. Time bends here, cradling the ancient sighs of yesteryears.
Shadows linger longer, whispering secrets stitched into the bark of ever-watchful trees, their eyes like pools of ink reflecting the souls who dared to dream here.
A path, barely visible, invites only those who know the language of its silence. Here, every rustle tells a story half-told, every breeze carries a memory of dew-kissed dawns.