Beneath the infinite dust of forgotten stars lies a paradox: to remember or to erase the unsaid. Are we but unwritten chapters in a cosmic book? Beyond the audible echoes of silence, the notions breathe and stumble in the theatre of existential absurdity.
It was not the journey, but the intentionality of footprints left in unyielding sands that attested to existence. Walk, and the question arises; unknowingly, you step into tales of paths untaken, as seen through the lense of a spectator bound to unseen destinies. Do the footprints ask questions of those who read them?