Amidst the invisible ether, where the sound of silence gathers, lies the murmur of forgotten tales and the whisper of unseen breezes.
The twilight calls softly, an indigo veil descending upon the crimson echoes of day.
What do you see, they ask the wind—wisps of sound, feathers of lullabies? Can you hear the stories etched in the fabric of dusk?
Ripples in a ghostly rhythm dance towards eternity, blurring the border between realms.
Touch the threads of mist, and let the world's tapestry fold fleetingly upon itself.
whisper further