In the quiet crevices of your consciousness, 4293 m3> dwellings wait, embracing shadows cast by vacant gazes. Think back, to a time when whispers formed actual shapes capable of piercing realms .
Silently, the frequencies shimmer, charting maps through untouched corridors, echoing dimensions closer when regarded askew. What song do they sing, half-heard within twilight vibrations?
[ Forgotten Doors ]