Do whispers echo louder when no one can hear: a shelter whispers absence into presence, this intangible noise like leaves shedding skin, dust motes dancing veils of lost skies...
No one comes here anymore. No need.
The footprints lead away from places unrivaled in time—they might as well dance upon the lunar soil. Alien structures, as mundane were they crafted—
Sleepers, electric mists, syntactic underpasses of lies layered like geological horizons...