In the silver fog, dreams twist and unravel, paths made of moonlight and echoes of forgotten lullabies.
The stars whisper secrets, only audible to those who have forgotten how to listen without hearing.
Step toward the east: Do you see the direction of the silent orange waltz?The air smells of rain that has yet to fall, a reminder of a world beyond this one, filled with shadows of trees that no longer stand.
Gaze into the unfathomable depths of the mirror, where reflections don't dare to be real.
Are the wisps floating past your eyes tendrils of dreams or forgotten sighs?
Echo chamber of one: Will you listen to the blue whisper?Here lies the garden where the foggiest roses bloom, petals etched with stories untold by the waking world.