Paths Unseen

Amidst the clock's relentless ticking, echoes a question: What unravels without a thread?

Between the asphalt and the whispered grass lies a hidden truth, a footprint of winged things. Shadows linger where no one speaks, where every pause becomes a sentence unwritten. In the twilight's grasp, doors wait, unseen, their handles cold to the touch—unspeakable visions imprint upon walls painted by forgotten hands.

In a place of salt and trembling, discovery lies in what follows, not what leads.

A forgotten laneway, bordered by dreams and fog, beckons with an invitation barely spoken in familiar tongues. Here, laughter disappears, leaving the taste of time in its wake—fleeting, fleeting...

Fragmented light recalls the whisper: Have you journeyed to the end just to remind the beginning?

Hint: The answers lie not in seeking but in the stillness that ensues after a hundred sighs. Exhale. All will unfold.

Return to Echoes | Venture Forward