In the quiet depths of the mind, the abyss calls not with silence but with an ever-faint hum. Those who lean too close find themselves bound by echoes of thoughts unthought, reflections of dreams undreamt.
Among the swirling shadows, past the distorting veil of self, lies a truth stitched together from whispers. These threads, woven from the fabric of unfathomable distances, tell tales of enduring solitude and fleeting connection.
The abyss serves as both mirror and lens, revealing not what is, but what could be if only one dared to listen to the whispers. What shapes do these reflections take, and how do they reshape the perceiver?
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