“I dreamt I was lost in the echoes of their whispers,” she said, half a shadow at dusk.

“Which path leads to silence?” he pondered aloud, unaware of the question's futility.

Once, a voice declared, “In the layers of ink, truths dissolve in hushed repose.”

“Have you seen the color of thought?” she asked, eyes reflecting a deeper void.

“It isn't the journey but the stillness between breaths that matters,” he replied, already fading.

And somewhere, a clock ticked without hands, marking time in forgotten dreams.

Explore more layers:

• Murmurs of the Void
• Dream Textures
• Shadowplay Reflections