The whispers of yesterday's clocks echo, ticking in reverse across the bridge made of fog. A rabbit, perhaps an illusion, wears spectacles and reads the news of the day—printed in hieroglyphs and ink of dreams.
Somewhere beyond the mountains of imagined memories, a door swings open on its own accord, revealing a vision unseen. Observers, hidden behind curtains of thought, ponder the reason why the rain sings lullabies.
An anachronistic dance unfolds on the cobbled streets of the past. The future, dressed in shadows, hums a melody only the ancients understand. In this place, where time slips like sand through fingers, the abyss calls forth its echo.
Walk on the gentle waves of the abyss, feel the currents of time displace beneath your steps. Reflect, and in reflecting, lose yourself.