In the void where echoes fade, a muted symphony resides. Fragments of laughter, touched by silence, dance around the periphery of thought.
Invisible ink writes the stories we dare not read, etching shadows upon the fabric of twilight. Listen, they say, to the whispers cloaked in starless night. They reveal worlds unseen.
A veiled procession of words, trailing behind in the dust of forgotten dreams. Each step echoes what remain unspoken, weaving tapestries in the dim light of moons beyond.
Mirror of the Night