Enter the dreamscape where blades whisper secrets of what cannot be seen, slicing shadows into fragments of time. Each echo, a silent scream of forgotten chapters, waiting for puzzled hearts to decode.
The clock ticks backward; meanwhile, the knives accumulate dust in a serene kitchen devoid of life. They speak in slices; they are melodies in the void, harmony stitched into fabric without seams.
Chasing reflections, does the edge exist without shadow? Would you dare to carve the fog, to reveal what lies behind the curtain?
Each cut sculpts the silence—
slices of past lives | sharp realities | edges blurredJoin us in untying the knots of uncertainty and discover what lies combined, a mosaic of intentions.