Whispers slide beneath the surface of time; licorice branches forming limbs of myth. Listen closely to the morose laughter of forgotten spectacles, spectral creatures shrouded in half-light. Meaning untangles, sprouting wings like ruffled paper cranes lost in the wind.
Red wheels for masquerading ghosts flutter across a ceiling of echoes, a fading laughter of monochrome. Your eyes find solace in the gravitational pull of ancient clocks ticking unreliably; listen, the fingernail of reality scratches on parched dreams.
Visit the Dreamscapes or revisit the Silhouettes. Fragments guide the movements confined within alleys of forgotten tales. Tap the walls and feel echoes streaming away...