Whispering shadows under the eaves of twilight sing songs untold. The sound of rain falling upward, a melody in reverse, where droplets dance like forgotten chandeliers. A passage sculpted in shadows and echoes, leads where? Not forward, but back, to a moment never lived. Step Out
Paving stones of liquid memory, walking them in reverse, each step erasing the imprint left by another past. This doorway — an invitation to solitude, not despair but an incessant hum that speaks. Secrets held by the hinges, breaths drawn long before light flickered. Hidden Realities
In the end, all is calm and quiet, the opposite of chaos wrapped around the core. Circuits of thought form and dissolve, like melodies played backward on strings not yet broken. Return, they whisper. Return. The portal awaits; its name forgotten, but nothing else matters.
Invoking the rhythm of a clock unwound, ticks running against time. Here lies an invitation, a welcome to silent dirges. The doorway, a riddle wrapped in enigma, listens more than it speaks, its words symbols on a page where sound bears witness. Return Again