In the absence of touch, the phantom lingers, tracing the outlines of reality not felt, yet almost seen. Echoes ripple through the skin that isn't there, crafting melodies in forgotten keys, where the sound of silence shudders in anticipation of sound that will never come.
Shadows speak in tongues of what was, or perhaps what will be, suspended between the breaths of a universe paused at the brink. Invisible echoes carve out the spine of the intangible, each reverberation a question mark at the end of existence's unfinished sentences.
Should you wish to explore these hidden caverns further, follow the whispers here. Or perhaps you might find solace in the void itself, where no sound dares to tread.