The hallways stretch infinitely, each footstep echoing through spaces unseen and unknown, our minds the architects of these empty passages. What do they conceal? What whispers in the corners of our dreams?
In the dim light, I see fragments of myself—mirrors reflecting not what is, but what could have been. They shimmer with promises wrapped in delicate illusions.
Are we prisoners to the corridors of thought? Each door imagined a potentiality's embrace, yet left unopened, leaving only the silence of reflection.