The echoes twist around the corners of dimly lit halls, an energetic dance heard only by those who dare to listen. The whispers wind through the walls, a kaleidoscope of thought, sharp and shimmering, abandoning every expectation with joy pure as silver dew on a silent morning.
Each turn in the corridor reveals a new story, waiting to be told, a reflection bouncing across invisible strings. Are you following them, or are they following you? An orchestra of arcs dances lightly over an undecipherable code, eternally repeating yet different with each iteration, every glance a new discovery.
Speak to the future | Visit the past