Whispers linger in the dim echoes of twilight, a space where mirrors reflect not what is, but what could have been. It’s a curious place, one where solemn lullabies weave through the cracks in the glass like timeless phantoms.
The mirror hums a tune, low and weathered, a beat that reminds of cloudy skies and distant thunder. What shapes lurk in these shadows? Faces unseen, memories cast like old films retrieving their color in the dance of the silver gleam. Sometimes, you hear them speaking—soft tones like waves kissing the edges of a forbidden shore.
Do you dare look closer? Or perhaps, you're drawn to explore other whispers that echo through these unseen halls?
Listen—can you trace the melody back to its heart? Or does it lead you deeper into the maze of self, winding paths of shimmering echoes and tangled reflections?