The Faraway Echoes

The horizon hums, a distant melody tracing unerased paths...

Murmurs ride the wind, riding fields of speculation, unchecked by reality's anchor.

In the twilight, phantom footsteps crackle on invisible pathways, reaching shadows beyond the keen eye.

Ethereal tunes sway, gathering dust in spectral galleries.

Invisible Landscapes — Maps, without charting, guide nowhere.
Untold Wisps — Words escaping a half-forgotten tale resonate in space, recall their absence.