They say, the paths of the mind are like trails in the thick forest of thought. Often obscured, often leading to places unmapped by the heart's compass. In one such veiled corner, I found a whispering echo, an invitation from a phantom limb.

Is memory tangible? The phantom asked, tracing fingers of light across my thoughts. I pondered and replied, Only in the touch of dreams, where every shadow holds the weight of what once was.

To walk these paths is to embrace the ephemeral. To touch what isn't there and feel the warmth of absence. The journey ends not in a destination, but in the silent understanding of what remains hidden.

Have the clouds whispered secrets to the ocean that we have yet to understand? Journey deeper.