The whisper of time, an echo, an echo, a whisper... Time folds in on itself, a serpent consuming itself, only to find itself, again and again. Breath caught in the loop, the cycle, the spiral.
In the quiet, moments stretch, distort, repeat. The sound of water, the sound of silence, the sound of everything being not quite what it seems. Continuity is an illusion, a mirage, a comforting shade in the heat of the relentless sun.
Around and around, the wheel turns, the wind whispers, the thoughts circle. To be is to loop, to be is to repeat, to be is to echo. Reflection upon reflection, the mirror never ends.
Dive into the Reflection Follow the Endless Chant Complete the Orbit