In a land far away, where the clouds tickle the mountains' tops, lies a fortress. It is big and spooky but made of magic and dreams.
Once, the fortress was alive with laughter, but now, only the wind whispers songs around its tall stone walls.
Some say there are footsteps that walk each day, all alone, leading to secrets unseen. They follow paths to nowhere, just like us, like the moon, like the clouds.
There are rooms inside with doors that speak in riddles. They open to places where jellybeans grow on trees and rivers flow with chocolate.
Young dreams visit the halls, tickling their echoes, and painting rainbows on the walls.
But we just stand here, searching with eyes wide open, wondering where the footprints end.