In the dance of fog and shadow, when morning yawns and stretches, there lies a secret waiting to be unfurled. The air tingles, electric with whispers.
Can't you feel the tingling sensation on the back of your neck as the mist embraces you? It's almost like... like
Do you remember those days, when the world felt boundless and every step forward was a leap into the unknown? Paths not trodden, ready to be discovered.
The thrum of the hidden, the rhythm of breath in the mist, calling out, reaching out towards
Dance of Drops