Stand before the mirror and delve into the whispering edges of your reflection. Each cycle, unseen, has left traces upon the glass—echoes of past selves, murmurs of what has been and what persists invisibly.
In this transparent labyrinth, cycles become stories untold, paths walked within the shadows of consciousness. They spiral endlessly, birthing emptiness and yet fullness, marking an inscription only comprehensible by the heart's quiet ruminations.
Whispers of the Silhouette
Cycles: A Journal Unwritten
The Orb of Timelessness
As you step away, realize the journey does not end—it merely refracts, joining fragments of your aura within the stillness, as hauntingly beautiful as a sigh among silent dreams.