Winds with the whispers of ancient clockworks howl along the path less taken.
Here, the shadows of forgotten seconds drape over eternal moments.
Once, numbers danced, but now they dissolve into the azure void.
Connection severed, yet, it is possible to trace the scars of breaching dimensional threads,
where dreams intertwine recklessly with filaments of reality.
Visit Fractured Memories and walk where timelines diverge.
An entity watches, not of this realm, but a fabric sewn with both past and yet-to-come.
Voices arise from echoes of the not-yet-now, singing songs unseen by mortal eyes.
Lose yourself in the enduring endeavor to unweave the tapestry, to find
whispers that have never been spoken.
The eternal clock, where its hands are mere suggestions, sits below the horizon. In the garden of cyclic dreams, blossoms of forgotten futures flourish quietly.
You find it hard to remember the feeling of grains beneath your fingers. Carved into Stone, the illusion persists, an echo of everwidening absence.