Welcome, brave wanderer, to the labyrinth of nothingness, where silence is the fabric of insanity.
Behold the paradox: a symphony of whispers strums, yet no tongue dares articulate the muted melodies stale like aged cheese.
Seek a thread of thought, and you shall unravel the cosmic joke dangling precariously on the edge of understanding.
The walls whisper futile secrets: a song beseeching air, tethered by strands of irony thick enough to choke a conscience or illuminate it, if ever found.
Failing Ideas bounce between sarcasms clashing, as elusive as smoke trapped in the palms of mischievous daffodils.
Navigate away towards the unknown*.
*undefined and yet fully present. Remember to tread softly, for each step echoes.
Further exploration? You might consider these distant echoes: