An ancient library, hidden beneath the sands of time, contains pages unwritten, chapters lost to the winds. "Do you hear the echoes?" A voice asks, slithering through the cracks of reality.
Among the books, a journal opens itself, its entries half-formed, like dreams fading at dawn. Observations of a soul traveling through azure skies, seeking "the fruit of ephemeral visions.".
Words swirl in & out of understanding; "the clock ticks, though no time exists." Sea of thoughts, forever adrift, tethered to nothing tangible.