In the absence of echoes, one cannot tell if they are speaking or listening. Yet, in this peculiar silence, equations unfold like stories—cryptic, tender, wistful.
Through the algebra of absence, one discovers the true essence of presence. Each variable a ghost, each coefficient a memory hauntingly vivid yet achingly out of reach.
Time, a linear paradox, bends upon itself in the realm of zero. What once was a straight line becomes a circle, where the beginning is the end and vice versa.
In every riddle lies the simplicity of a choice. To embrace the void or to fill it with reflections of who we might become in its haunting presence.