In the grid, there are whispers of ancient tales. Stories that ebb and flow, never completely fading, yet never entirely here. The winds repeat the secrets, in a language that feels both forgotten and familiar, winding through the spaces between the stones of past ages…
* the sun chases shadows **
murmurs linger like ghosts in fog
* broken paths upon golden sands **
silence sighs in a tentative truth
* rain-streaked letters addressed to a stranger **
the echo of laughter, too far to reach
* footprints of a dream erased by time **
beneath the lattice of stars, a lone melody
* a door to nowhere, unlocked **