Walking down these echoing halls, you feel the conversations of long-past meetings. You can almost hear the scratches of pens on notepads, the murmured agreements, and the occasional loud laugh that never quite settles.
Each turn sees champions of every kind. Textbooks spill their secrets between protests of the bindings. The chairs never moved, yet they face new directions every visit. Why is it some journeys seem endless?
Did you ever think a single flicker of the fluorescent light would be your companion in silence? A tape recorded whispers its endless loop, never losing its volume. You'll find it two corridors down, past the bulletin board with tattered dreams.
Need to find your way back? Maybe checking here will provide some clues. Or should you jump straight to the Lost Ideas Archive?