The railway of time unravels into endless temporality. A train forged from mathematical infinity journeys paths unseen, its whistle an ancient scream echoing through universal chord progressions. Here whispers align beneath metal bones, and it's said controls maneuver minds not hands.
Cyclic movements—a marionette dance often feared, orchestrated by shadowy descants not privy to sun’s exposure. Recording devices, entrenched in carriage walls, polish reams of false memories always returned. Even so, only dust reveals the grand trajectory sealed upon departure.