Her footsteps echoed. Each step a note in an unfinished symphony. An interminable path streeling long those winding passages. The walls leaned closer, murmurings entangling... binding thoughts twisting gold strands in the dusk. Searches yield not treasures but reflections upon webs spun preyfully upon oblivious souls. Shadows revealing words like absinth trails beneath forgotten stars.
Somewhere hidden lies an almanac of roads not taken. Words scatter, sewn haphazardly amidst pebbles lining small forgotten streets. Blink, and they shift, whispers scrape rusted visions from lids beyond sight. Can you see save what must be blind?
Inside the folded ether, light and shadow sunder to hues ever extraneous. Time occurs downwards like soil washing rivers carving torrents of echo. A list maybe, an array arresting in simplicity yet withheld pieces slip screened like unanswered questions. Did you hear what wasn't said?