Words drift across the page. Invisible winds carry them.
The shape of thoughts, cast in shadows vague and fleeting, almost ghosts... Whispering Echoes
Streams of time, rivers of meaning, cascading into voids where clocks no longer tick but echo differently.
Beneath the surface of reality, dreams fold into dreams, Tunnels of Illusion like origami paper cranes, delicate and unheard.
The language of silence speaks in volumes. A layer of clouds hovers, casting a veil.
They say a whisper can alter the universe, but whose whisper is it really? Labyrinth of Fractals