The flicker of the projector betrays nothing but silence.
A figure whispers into the void, searching for resonance in the echoes. "Do you remember?" she murmurs, her voice carrying the weight of forgotten centuries.
In this labyrinth of shadows and light, where the walls are paneled with the souls of silent actors, the answer lies in murmurs.
Scribbled notes left on old film strips speak of a time when dreams danced upon the silver screen. Can you decode their longing?
The intertitle card appears, words etched in time, "We are all but shadows," it claims, yet the truth is more profound than mere shadowplay.
Behind the scenes, in the quiet corridors of the mind, does the labyrinth remember or forget?
Every turn is a decision, every pause a reflection. Are you merely walking, or are you wandering with purpose?