In the hushed corners of existence, where the light of certainty dims, lies a road paved with bygones.
A place where echoes linger, serenading the unspun dreams.

Here, the air is laced with the fragrance of memories not yet forgotten, woven into the fabric of time.

The sun casts playful shadows as the winds hum ancient lullabies. A sundial, caught in a dance with oblivion, marks the passage of whispers, not of hours.

The past remembers its own stories, tales untold to any ear but the one of silence.
Between the lines of this tapestry, lie the footprints of the waking world — untraceable, yet undeniably present.

Oh to dwell in these byways for a moment longer, where the dreams of yesteryears and tomorrows converge...