In the voyage of the unseen, phantoms linger, tracing the contours of thought unwritten. Beneath the silence lies a tapestry, woven from whispers, each thread a memory not yet born.
The metrics remain, unseen and unmeasured, their values unknown yet deeply felt, in this silent odyssey.
What does the odyssey count, if not footsteps in sand, brushed away by waves? Phantom metrics linger, like echoes in an empty hall.
Here, the silence speaks louder than numbers, a language of the soul, transcending the limits of the visible horizon.
As we traverse these unseen paths, ghostly figures chart our course, their hands tracing the air, their eyes set on stars unseen.