In the whispering hallway, echoes of thoughts linger, suspended in time. Do they speak of beginnings or endings, of presence or absence? Each echo, a fragment of a forgotten dream, reverberates through the corridor of minds.

The walls are lined with shadows—silent witnesses to the passage of reflections. What remains when the voices fade? A whisper, perhaps, a gentle reminder of what once was. Reflections come and go like the tide.

Repetition becomes the rhythm of the hallway. Step by step, word by word, the cycle unfolds: whisper... echo... whisper... echo... Until the distinction between silence and sound blurs. Silence knows no boundaries.

Time, a mere illusion here, stretches and contracts in the hands of the listener. In this timeless place, does one find truth, or is it merely an illusion cast by the flickering light?

Beneath the surface of the whispered words lies a deeper meaning, hidden in plain sight. Illuminate the shadows to discover the unseen.