In the corridor of stillness, time lingers, lopsided; the air vibrates with a waiting hum. Echoes of unwelcome curiosity bounce. Every iteration forms like a halo, delving into realms unexplored, leaving whispers in forgotten hues.
Looping, repeating, the same melody greets you—an abandoned voyager of space. Its refrain becomes a companion. Seconds weave distortions, knots in threads connecting you to that shimmering doorway ahead—left ajar, it calls. Open? Closed? Isn't it already both, indeed a tethered paradox?
A compass spins futilely, aiming at sounds not of this world, yet the destination lingers at the corner still. Time bends like the hearing glass dome, whilst curiosities unveil lasting impressions that thread through the vast canvas of known and unknown.
Repeating, receding, reverberating; the portal echoes its chorus—forever unaltered, embodying all constraints of imagined gravity. A fleeting void waits, swambling the familiar rhythm—a cyclic embrace, asking with aged wisdom...
Your foot hesitates, echoes of yourself pulse through the vacuum. Patterns pulsate within the loop—a melody, muted, yet bold.