The Obscured Corridor of Time

It was said that in the corridor where shadows find comfort, there lies a path obscured, hidden from sight and lore.

Once, a traveler—whose name has long been borne away by the winds—stumbled upon this corridor. Here, stories breathe and fade, like whispers under a door, or the remnants of a dream upon waking.

Was it unforeseen circumstance? Or a detour ordained by celestial mechanics? Neither questions grasped at meaning here, for answers lounged lazily beyond the ethereal veil.

The traveler, among hazy recollections, discerned ghostly figures; they drifted, permeating the walls, etching eternal tales unknown, their faces hollow masks of pallid light.

The corridor remains, a phantasmal gallery of time's forgotten art, echoed by the lonesome paradox of existence.