Whispering echoes of a century-long yawn drift through the chasms of your mind. A nook filled with symphonies unsung and tales unwritten, bending the light just beyond your reach.
The silent sigh of abandoned pages swirls in the ether, merging with laughter unheard carried aloft by wings of silver shadows. The fleeting skirmish of letters against oblivion.
Sealed rhythms dance, a forgotten festivity astray. The clock counts backwards in this world here, where nimble fingers paint streams of binary, forever entangled in inexplicable grace.
The clouds open and spill whispers of a destination unknown:
The void rings with murmured truths, scrawled in ink only the night can read.