Thoughts drift aimlessly. It was in this land where buildings, made of glass and sand, started appearing. Or was it disappearing? When one touched them, they felt like the coolness of a breeze that once danced over a sea of nothing. Something always just out of reach, an inviting path leading nowhere, or perhaps to somewhere exceptional. People spoke of streets that twisted like dreams, where the past met the future, unbound by the logic of time.
In these lands, you hear whispers of stories untold, unfinished and waiting for an end, or perhaps a beginning. Windows that reflect the souls of passerby, showing glimpses of lives lived in parallel realities.
Are these mirages a memory of a future past? Or an illusion cast by the sun's relentless embrace? Even now, as sun dips beneath the horizon, painting everything in hues of gold and crimson, who can truly know? Each step echoes with the laughter of children, playing in shadows that stretch like fingers reaching towards something lost.