What is the cargo we carry in our minds, hidden beneath layers of conscious intention and subconscious wanderings? Is it light, is it fluid, or is it like lead, pressing down into the fabric of time?
The footprints lead nowhere, like the tracks of a bird in a desert, leading to an oasis that remains ever out of reach. Read the paradox.
Paths are drawn, erased, and drawn again, yet here we are, architects of mazes.
Beneath the stars, our unseen paths tug at the unknown, whispering secrets of invisible weavings.
Consider the phantom ships that sail beneath the dreams, carrying cargo of forgotten hopes and unspoken fears. Conceive the invisibility.