Hey there, it's like wandering through a dream, isn't it? Where the stars hum softly and the voices fade in and out like static on an old radio. You know, sometimes I think these echoes tell stories of their own, of places long lost to time but still whispering in the shadows. Explore the dreamscape?
Memory is a peculiar thing… It ebbs and flows, like tides pulling at the sands of our minds, leaving grains but never quite taking the whole. Listen closer.
Imagine a gathering, no, an accumulation, of thoughts drifting slowly like cosmic dust. Each mote a moment, suspended in the vastness. You can almost see it, can't you? Visualize it.