It was the whisper of the wind that first drew me to the ancient rooftops, where once the aerials spun, spinning tales of the world beyond.
They were said to hold voices of the past, but the past was never as it seemed.
Amongst the steel carcasses, the sky felt vast and uncharted, every gust an echo of distant memories.
The locals spoke of a time when whispers chose their own destinies, weaving secrets into the fabric of dusk.
Wander Deeper