Empty pages, echoing in the vast corridors of a mind uncharted, a soft murmur of stories left unwritten. These fragments of consciousness weave through the tapestry of existence, a dance in the half-light of dreams.
Once there was a key, elusive as the dawn, lost between the realms of thought and reality. It whispered secrets of the universe, profound and absurd. We followed the trail, marked by the footprints of ink upon undefined paths.
Murmurs in the darkness tell of forgotten temples, where the walls still hold the laughter of gods and the memory of time untouched by mortal hands. Here, beneath the surface of waking life, the truth lies buried and waiting.