The anchorless drift of thoughts mirrors the dizzying beauty of star-stitched skies. When the soul whispers to the void, do you hear the universe responding in kind, or is it merely the sound of your own heartbeat echoing through cosmic corridors?
Traveler: Your path was never linear, was it?
Seeker: Time once tangled in the pretenses of straight lines.
Traveler: Are we lost, then?
Seeker: Only if we seek to discover destination over understanding.
The cosmos do not understand left or right. They curve under the weight of understanding, inviting those who grapple with existential lines to dance upon the horizon.
What if each word you spoke was a comet, tracing its tale of gravity-repelling eloquence across a midnight canvas? Would you choose to enunciate your truths in radiant arcs, knowing that silence holds its own celestial potential?
Enter the Whispers