What whispers through the moonlit corridor of our choices, echoing the patterns of destinies woven? Each path diverging, merging, revisiting — in circles of thought, not unlike fractals.
Paths are not mere destinations; they are reflections of choices unmade, shadows of what could be, entangled in the present's embrace. Do they speak of our desires, or are they whispers from worlds unseen?
By paths unseen, by futures unmade, the soul whispers back through the moonlit mists. A journey within.