The castle of thoughts under the moon cannot be built without the echo of dreams.
In the pause between the gears of fate and fantasy lies a castle—silent and shadowed, under the gaze of the indifferent moon. Here, the garden grows with whispers of yesterdays unremembered, yet forever felt.
Each room, a reflection; each window, a perspective. Dare tread upon the clockwork corridors where the ticking echoes questions without answers and answers that ask. Here lies the secret held by the whispers: Do the dreams dream themselves awake, or sleep suspended in the moon's light?
Travel through the fluidity of time with our companions: the stained glass illusions that twist reality through their prismatic doors. Will you follow the path to the guardian's tower?
Consider the enigma of the eternal clock, its hands etching moments invisible, wearing down the stone of existence itself. A refinement of sorrow and joy intertwined. Would the clock sing or silent itself behind the castle walls?
Step into the library of forgotten truths. Perhaps the winds will share their secrets.
In the stillness, ponder: Are we the dreamers of dreams or dreams that have learned to dream? In the gaze of the moon, every answer is both an invitation and a departure.