In the dimly lit corridors of forgotten concert halls, where dust dances in the unseen light, there exists a symphony longing to be heard. Beyond the crumbling walls, the echoes of a maestro's baton still linger, weaving tales of forgotten melodies. Persuade yourself to listen, for the notes are trapped in time, waiting for a willing ear to release them.
The symphonies call out, and if you heed their call, you might uncover the secrets known only to the greatest of conductors. It is not merely music; it is an entropic cascade of harmony and discord, of crescendos and decrescendos, imploring you to embrace its beautiful decay.