Shadows bend in the corridors of the past, where voices whisper in languages unspoken, tongues that caress the silk of history, cutting pathways through the fog of oblivion.
The clock tower in its endless twang, counts circles in the air, marking time in hollow beats. Here, memory is murky, like forgotten ink on brittle pages of an ancient tome.
(Beneath the cathedral's arch) A statue that weeps in moonlight casts stories in marbled expressions, while leaves descend like lost dreams searching for earth to root themselves.
In the labyrinth, we roam in circles, seeking the center that never was, driven by the pull of some unseen truth awaiting revelation. Yet all we find are echoes— whispers in stone.