In the quiet abyss, where echoes dare to dream, the sonorous waves rise. They whisper tales of forgotten realms, of mirages woven from the fabric of sound. Each note, a step into a labyrinth of illusions.
Have you ever seen a mirage, shimmering on the horizon, teasing the parched soul with visions of water and shade? It is but a fleeting dance, a play of light and heat. Sound, too, dances, its rhythms distorting reality, crafting illusions more tangible than truth itself.
Here's a truth: The sound of silence. It's louder than any symphony, echoing through the corridors of introspection. It reverberates, creating its own mirage, an illusion of emptiness filled with whispers of what could have been.