It started with a simple pattern, repeating endlessly, but it wasn't just a pattern; it was alive.
Conversations with no one, echoing inside the walls of recursive images.
The path ahead was carved by unseen hands, guiding, yet an illusion. Paths fragment, wander without purpose.
Memory glitches, sunlight flickers that aren't there anymore. Places once familiar dissolve into new shapes.
Crossroad signs painted by time or perhaps a forgotten yesterday, naming places that never existed.