On the edge of the everyman’s consciousness lies a path seldom spoken of, an intersection of thoughts where pavement ends and possibility begins. Perhaps you saw it in a dream, or a half-remembered tale told by a stranger in a bustling café. The trucks never drive this way, they say. A sign warns of detours but nobody follows orders out here.
It begins with a stone that hums quietly, an ancient tune—melodies lost to time and space but familiar to all who listen closely. Some call it "the lost path"; others, just shrug. A rabbit watches, unperturbed. Its eyes gleam with what can only be described as existential boredom.
Do you dare approach the door where no door should stand?