The Forgotten Catalogue

Bound in shadows and whispers, it holds the words unsaid by forgotten tongues. Remember only, its pages aren't meant to be turned by the living.

Time unwound itself when it ceased its relentless ticking. No rhythm, no reason, just an empty face staring eternally.

Dipped deep in eternal dusk, it harbors the dreams others discard. Write with it, but don’t linger on what you pen.