Fragments of a dream, or was it reality's whisper? Echoes linger, dancing in the corridors of an abandoned library. Shadows breathe softly on forgotten tales, murmuring secrets they dare not reveal. But who listens?

Turning pages to lose oneself, yet finding infinite versions of self, in windows etched onto old parchment. There in the periphery, a winding pathway swerves right. Where time pauses, stands still, perpetual loops of words hear stillness speak.

Do you see the light flicker as sound waves ripple? Silent algorithms embracing cosmic syntax. Each period, a galaxy; each line break, a supernova.