The voice beneath the current chimes a melody no one sings, no one dares to hum in the solitude of the void. A song unsung echoes in corridors unseen, corridors unlived.

Footprints in the sand, footprints in the rain—nowhere to follow, nowhere to go. Beneath the water's surface, a voice whispers, "What defines the path?"

Do they lead anywhere or nowhere, these tracks imprinted upon the fabric of dreams? Reality bends, futile dialogues drift like autumn leaves, untold and man-mad alike.

The air vibrates with echoes of the unsaid, the unheard, the unimagined. Footfall upon footfall, they weave a tapestry of echoes, unseen.