Footprints in Dreamland

Through the haze of dusk, the footprints linger. Silent specters woven into the fabric of a thousand dreams. They tread softly upon shores untouched, where reality bleeds into the realm of shadowy reveries.

In the funhouse mirrors, echoes of a memory long lost ripple beneath the surface. Here, in this labyrinth of glass and gloom, the past entwines with a whispering future—familiar yet obscured, like a half-remembered melody sung by ghosts.