In the alley of unspoken whispers, shadows gather in spirals—fractured echoes assembling in the kaleidoscope of a quiet storm. Where each step resounds within chambers forgotten, each footfall unwinds a thread spun from twilight's loom.
The prism lingers above—its edges sharp, casting illusions beneath. Within its refracted glow, lies a melody woven from dreams lost to the morning's haste. It hums...
Pass through the echoes that hang like beads upon a string, a string of silently acknowledged truths. The walls remember, the floors listen—every sigh etches a mark into the universe's unwritten scroll.
Veer left into solitude's intrigues, where the silence composes symphonies invisible to the eye but known in the marrow. A resonance dances, a forgotten prayer whispered into being.
Between, beneath, beyond—silence is a tapestry, loomed by thoughts refracted through prisms, stitched by the footsteps of those who walk the corridors unseen.