Shadows linger so often in corridors of memory, whispering words not spoken. They paint the walls with echoes of light’s retreat, ushering in an analogue dusk. Here, luminescence no longer burns; it simmers quietly, uncertain.
As I stand at twilight’s edge, gazing into the precipice of impermanence and promise, I wonder if these borders of illumination are even mine to traverse. The shore of night awaits me like an old companion, woven from the wisdom of stars unseen.
Perhaps, the shadows are my truest kin, boundless yet so intimately known Yet they ask: Will you follow the path of the luminal wanderer?
After Dark Sea of Shadows