Wandering through the corridors of nie, whispering with echoes of half-formed thoughts stitched together from shadows. The endless where. Peering into forgotten fragments, like stained glass in a tale once spun by starlight.
Do you remember the clock that never ticked, resting abandoned under layers of time's whisper? Or the dream of corridors where every turn unfolds a version of somewhere else this shadowed memory paints?
Feet lift, float, tread in rhythm with nothing, everywhere pulling at invisible seams. Reach, where the reflections whisper secrets not meant for waking, unraveling in a soft hum....
Are we endless, are we here eternal, locked in this dream-weave tapestry spun from murmurs unseen but deeply felt?