In the liminal space where dusk meets twilight, the trees seem to speak in hushed reverences. "Have you seen the moon's secret smile?" A breeze breathes through the leaves, carrying echoes of something beautiful, something lost.
Somewhere, an eternal clock ticks backward, counting down to moments that never were. Shadows dance along corridors of forgotten dreams, inviting the lost wanderer to pause, to breathe, to listen.
Through the mist, no destination is the destination, and every path diverges into the unknown. It's here, in this shadowed labyrinth, that whispers become wind, and wind becomes memory.
Step quietly in the opposite direction and let the shadows guide you.