Step lightly, oh wanderer, for the floor whispers sweet nothings to the soul. You are not first to this luminous void.
Every footfall, a note in the silent symphony. The air dances, charged with stories untold, secretive hums trailing in your wake.
Listen closely to the reverberations, they tickle the spine, intertwining past and present with elaborate shadows.
Trace the echoes and you’ll find portals painted in flecks of time, leading to waves of crimson and forgotten arrangements.
All that pulsates, vibrates, reverberates with the heartbeat of a phantom—a tender pulse without form.