In the echoless chasms, where echoes forget their terminus and words weave into tapestries of silence, a refrain begins. Endless. Circular. The glyphs of forgotten tongues dance, unwritten, yet consumed by the wind.
𓀀
𓅨
𓀄
𓉝
Here, inscriptions etched upon dunes of time, where the sands remember but are too obstinate to reveal. The light bends, casting shadows of unknown stories.
Rivers of ink flow backward, defying the current of comprehension. Beneath layered meanings lies the ocean of unsaid truths, congealing into forms of perception yet unseen.