In whispers of quantum frequencies, where reality begins to shatter, apart from ever-abstracted perceptions, the gelid echo of time dissolves—and is reborn.
Do truths hold meaning, or do mirrors only double the fractal confusion? Sift through the perplexity pixels, and grasp only strands of shimmering illusions.
Find yourself, perhaps, in the Echo, or lost, ceaselessly entwined in the spiral of Convergence.