Somewhere between the echoes of a silent dawn, when the world is yet tender and the edges of reality are soft, lies a path untraveled. You walk it with eyes closed, sensing the hum of existence in vibrations beneath your feet. The universe whispers an esoteric secret, tracing glyphs in the air, forming memories of what never was, nor will be.
Have you ever tasted the color of sound? A violet note that clings to your skin like dew upon the grass at the break of day. You remember, or perhaps you've dreamt it, a girl with silver hair who sang to crows, her voice a bridge to something profound. There are whispers, yes, from forgotten alleys, where time dances to a rhythm lost to the ages.
Don't look for answers in the cleft of mountains or in the shadow of clouds. They hide in the slips between thoughts, in those rare silences when words falter. Read them like a book, the shimmering letters that form a tapestry of unspoken truths. You see? The story traces its fingers along your spine, a gentle reminder of the paths unseen.
And if you turn around, just once, you might catch a glimpse of the door that leads to nowhere, yet everywhere at once. A portal, an invitation to tread softly on dreams woven into the fabric of time itself. Follow the whispers or pause to listen, but remember, the journey is yours alone.
As the overlay drifts lazily across your vision, you understand that every step, every breath, every thought is a dance in the cosmic ballet. The stars watch, silent and omniscient, as you trace your footprints in the sand of eternity. Forever curious, forever wandering.