The energy twirls in crescendos of invisible composers, their symphonies lost to forgotten pages. Echoes dance, pirouetting through empty ballrooms with capering symphonic applause. The hall itself breathes with unseen orchestras, every note an enthusiastic whisper, echoing footsteps in spaces yet filled by the soul of music, vibrant and untamed. Could you hear it? Become part of the forgotten.
Fragments of melodies chase one another, weaving between beams of moonlight. Bassoons chuckle softly, violins sigh deeply, all longing for an audience, a forgotten embrace. Here, time stutters, slows, quickens—and then, a pause. The gravity of harmony pulls; entire futures can hang on a single staccato beat. Discover their dreams.
O sonic timekeepers! Where are you? Welcoming, raucous, madly beautiful in everlasting assembly? Your shadows stretch across the walls, timeless, waiting to leap into unsuspecting hearts again. Feel the whispers.