In the pale trembling light, shadows dance upon the walls; echoes in this corridor of dreams speak of stories untold, whispers intertwining, like lovers' hands swathed in golden twilight.
Have you ever walked these halls, where the past meets the uncertain script of tomorrow?
Each step, a heartbeat, resonating through the grandeur of forgotten ages, punctuating silence with breathless cadence, an invisible web threading heartstrings across the void.
One writes of love, yet understands naught, for the truth lies captive behind mist-veiled doors. Explore further or listen to the unseen melody.
In the distances, faceless forms merge, emerge, only to dissolve again, leaving a sigh whispering through the air, like a fragile note, misplaced yet eternal.
Beyond each corner, a heartbeat waits, an echoing promise keeping time, its measure a symphony of invisible lines.
Until then, this empty space remains, filled with unspoken words, longing hearts, yet untouched by the warmth of promise. Recall the whispers and begin anew.
Yes, we are ghosts, we are echoes; trapped between lines unseen, we linger.