Shadows dance in the corners of your vision, those fleeting figures that are not what they seem. Do they whisper your name? Or perhaps they murmur secrets in languages ancient and forgotten. Sit quietly, listen not with ears but with the silence echoing in your heart.
The silhouettes stretch, bend, and break—like the mind of a wanderer lost in the fog of twilight. Events of the day, fragments of the night, all blend into a tapestry that hangs in the periphery. How much of your soul is captured in these fleeting forms?
There! Just a flicker. Did you see it? A shape, a shadow, a fleeting moment of truth cloaked in obscurity. The lunatic's yammering becomes clearer now—a cryptic soliloquy, a serenade to the unseen.