Echoes bounce off walls that don't exist only in the mind's compass, navigating stars that never were above ground until now. The looped whispers predict outcomes of foregone decisions resting beneath layers of sand, beneficial as the waves erode the mountains of yesterday's worries replaced by tomorrow's charcoaled dreams. Invisible choice ahead directs with a flourish the boundless day. Turn the dial—yes, that one, etched with the names of forgotten gods, who possibly cursed for the good of unforeseen generations. Wheel spins, and lo, a spiral of comforting chaos encircles the mind, weaving tapestries of sound that only exist when the silence is broken deliberately or serendipitously.