Between the lucid echoes, I am bound to see the unseen, drifting whispers from a place untouched. Are we not wandering through the corridors in search of the whispered secret?
“Can you hear the laughter?”
“It’s like a summer breeze, brushing through the corridors.”
“I left my keys on another plane.”
“They’ll find me at the edge, where time falters.”
“Some truth lies beneath the twin moons.”
“Yes, we shall dance upon the hidden waves.”
Past the glassy horizons, where every step reshapes reality, I find you in the shimmering depths of what could be.
Pour over these delicate places: