In the realm where whispers find form, shadows dance upon the fabric of existence. Each murmur, a dimension unfurling, adding layers to a tapestry unseen, yet ever present.
Have you noticed how phantom footsteps trace paths in the silence? They echo with questions, answers fading like morning mist. "Do you perceive their dance?" these whispers ask, weaving through the corridors of thought.
Ghostly voices beckon from the periphery of the mind, carrying snippets of conversations shared by souls long departed. Words etched in the cosmic canvas, awaiting the seeker who dares to listen.