In the dim corridors of thought's asylum, whispers reflect upon the walls. Thoughts intangible dance like echoes borrowed from sleepless shimmers.
What becomes of the minds that wander paths unseen?
Do they rest upon forgotten shelves, or stray into nooks where reality dare not sound its name?
Veils of time flutter, entwined with secrets untold and hues unwearied by presence. Here, the breeze wears the color of forgotten dreams.
Alas, a forgotten lexicon pierces through the veil, forming new dawn from hidden alphabets—where answers persist only to dissolve.
The shadows breathe alphabetic steam, scribing epistles of 'whys' to unborn destinies. Whisper back through the labyrinth where perhaps even echoes go blind.
252 shades gathered but left no trace—a symphony of nowheres, sung in tongue of ancient codes beseeching no constellation but the silence.