In the ethereal expanse of the empty gallery, the echo boasts its silent odyssey.
A luminescent fancy, resonating with metaphysical agility,
mocking the artistry cloaked under layers of infinite dust.
Does the echo whisper sweet nothings,
Or perhaps a symphony of unfulfilled promises?
Each wave a mural painted upon the void’s rich canvas.
“Silence!” she declared, “it's more golden than the overpriced artifacts on pedestals.”
An ironic refrain of truth, gilded in glowworm gel.
Luminous irony spills forth,
as the echo becomes curator of the hall’s ambience,
a walleyed witness to art’s masquerade.
Journey onwards,
beyond where echoes dare not resound:
Explore Whispering Conceits - The sage's unuttered thoughts
or Corridor of Dissonance - Where every footstep debates existence.