The twilight whispers secrets of the unseen, where doorways breathe in tandem with time's silent march. The air thickens with musings of missed paths, spectres haunting the corners of choices not grasped or forsaken.
In the fables of yawning spaces, hidden behind veil-thin walls, live those who slipped not through, but alongside. The truth wanes like a lunar shadow, distorted reflections caught in ripples of a forgotten stream.
Seek you must, behind the curtain, else risk standing in the shadows of unventured realms. Here, past the lookalike sandals and watercarved rubies, lies the echoed reflections.
The doorways speak in ancient tongues, written in the script of dreams. Listen close and hear the stories woven into the very fabric of existence; a tapestry that unravels with each step toward the empty spaces.