The sky bends without seams, stitching dark into light. Take three steps into the dissonance. Turn left at oblivion but never right. You will find a door where silence cannot yield.
Here, the floor hums with echoes—a note without form. Dust collects on undeciphered verse. Calendars lose their grip, retreating into mere suggestions. Seek the color teal; it masks the compass well.
[Hold fast] to nothing as form steals your breath away. A sense of dread lingers on the doormat unseen, awaiting the return of restless souls.
Whisper soft instructions before plunging into unknown—take a fork in unknowing, for the knife lies in ambivalence.
Hold your heart, run toward; the walls breathe, and you may dissolve between drapes of thought.