The walls breathe slowly, an erratic dance, a cosmic rhythm that transcends the mundane. Touch them, they whisper, and in their pulse feel the tremors of existence.
Somewhere, a clock ticks backward, unraveling time as strands of past and future weave into a corridor. This place — where the travelers conflate dreams with tangibility — becomes the stage for unseen spectacles.
What lies on the other side of the door? Perhaps a universe where thoughts shape landscapes, where imagination carves out valleys of whimsy and hills of mirth. Or maybe a memory, a fleeting flash of a life half-lived, color fading to gray.
Hover and it opens, revealing shadows and outlines, vague hints of something familiar yet profoundly estrange.
Whispers of Echo | Labyrinth Revelations