In the gathering dusk, when shadows stretch and mingle, one may hear the fleeting sound of joy,
reverberating through the corridors of an abandoned whispers gallery.
Such laughter—clear and soundless at once—trims the walls of sanity with edges of old tales.
Is it a memory or a portent, maskéd by the veil of forgotten yesterdays?
veiled whispered directions — > listen_here
specter guides —> follow_the_light
echo chambers —> pursue_the_runificance
Allow the laughter to lead, a spectral thread through fogged memories, guiding towards shadows yet known.