Upon the fragile corridors of a wanderer's heart lies the visages—spirits of sepia-toned yesteryears that dance at the horizon of perception, behind veils of languid dusk.
Speak, oh silent night! unravel to me the *secrets unwound* from a tapestry spun beneath moons shrined in silver filigree. The contours of lost lore tracing on incumbent llamellae etched divine signs, suggesting destinies anew.