In the absence of light, echoes dance. Invisible fingers weave through air—unseen, unheard—leaving melodies that tickle the skin like autumn mist.
Symbols are forgotten languages, etched in shadows of crumbling futures. The resonating silence speaks volumes, whispering secrets of the unwritten past.
Have you listened to the notes concealed within dreams? Not the dreams of today, but those abandoned on the doorstep of forgotten tomorrows.