The lattice of dreams unravels, as shadows lace their truths stitched through time. Here lies the forgotten echo of a voice never named, a glimmer of reverberation, melting into ether.
In the twilight hour, a gentle unraveling occurs; secrets, unnamed by their own creators, skim the surface of forgotten lagoons. The tapestry grows fragile, a mere breath could undo it.
The spider-like strands of cognizance weave tales of diamonds and dust, forgotten mansions where the air shimmers with the weight of lost years.