In the quiet borough of whispered echoes, a marionette dances unseen. Strings of whispers tangle in the moonlight, crafting invisible lattices of the unheard. Time dissolves, its texture soft as the petals of night-blooming jasmine.
A lantern flickers with the light of memories forgotten, where words once vivid now drift as muted shades. Here, beneath the dappled glow, the traveler finds solace in shadows — stories become shapes, unformed yet familiar, roaming the peripheries of consciousness.
The clock melts, draping over the moments in pools of silence. Every tick a ripple in the surreal ocean of recollection. Journey onward, through forests of ancient thought, where the ground is carpeted with the soft sighs of dreams long abandoned.