The vast desert sprawls, a silent witness to the crumbling vestige of what once was life. Beneath the surface, whispers of past existence, echoes of voices lost to the sands.
Footsteps map the terrain—a transient script unwritten by the sun. Here, every grain carries a memory, every dune a story sealed in silence. The perception stretches—elastic and ephemeral like the morning mirage.
The old forms rust beneath layers of time—their skeletal remains merge with granular dreams. A mastodon of once-bounded shores, its decaying visage now part of a perishable heritage.
Unearth the mirage that basks in the quietude, awaiting the warmth of the sun's fading caress.
The desert breathes its slow, sordid sigh—a cyclic mobiity of ancient sands and discordant tales. And still, the sun rises, lending its falsity to barren nostrils.
Narratives slip into eternity like shadows cast upon reticent stones; its form rests in plateaus eroded gently over aeons. A polygonal route etched softly by the desert's forgiving hand.