Inside the walls of a forgotten room, Little Bird once whispered to the lamp on the dusty shelf.
"Shh! The shadows are my friends. They tell stories of the light when no one is looking!" murmured the lamp.
Old Rug, with its countless footprints, sighed, “I hear secrets the children leave behind, but they never come back to listen.”
Should you follow the whispers, curiosity may take you places.
The bed, always still, wishes it could sigh too. “If only I could fold my dreams like paper,” it thinks, “then maybe, they'd see the world unlike mine.”
Visit the dust if you wish to find the footprints of stories untold.