In the corridors where shadows breathe, a murmur stirs, echoes of things never seen, filles the yawning space. Footsteps wander through painted doors, each a portal to realms forgotten by dreamers lost in memories haze.
Listen, the walls rejoice with sighs of soft lament, and speak in riddles only twilight understands. Every pane of glass reflects illusions made solid, shards of laughter poised on the brink of inevitable silence.
The air hangs thick with stories untold, remnants of things that could never be. Will you step through the whispers into mysteries anew?
Listen Further