In the quiet moments before dawn, the mind weaves intricate tapestries of what could be. Each thread a whisper of structure, a forgotten blueprint of a world unseen. These are the remnants of dreams—those ethereal construction sites that never see the light of day.
What becomes of the roads that were traveled in slumber, yet vanished upon waking? Who walks the corridors of our collective reveries, unseen by our waking eyes? These are questions with answers lost in the alleys of our subconscious, where the architecture of thought stands abandoned, yet proud.
As we navigate the labyrinth of existence, we carry the echoes of these forgotten structures within us. Perhaps they are not forgotten at all, but rather exist in parallel, waiting for a dreamer to remember.
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