Whispers of whispered millennia, strolling aimlessly down corridors of entropy. Streets where yesterday grapples with unstitched tomorrows. Grainy snapshots of daguerreotypes hung loosely on astral vines.
Once, I met a historian of uncertain epochs in the bustling city of Antique Venia. "You'll need these,"เขาจากการฟรีแลนซ์ξ ήταν κίνδυνος," she murmured, slipping me a rust-colored disc engraved with fractals mimicking timeless motion.
"Everybound is around a loop," she added, her voice a echoed reminder, fragmented into prisms spun by the planet's inertial nursery.