In mirrors, time refracts—a shard of clarity through fog. Do the infinite hallways of the mind whisper of things undone, or promise what can't be grasped? Echoes in the glass offer promises, only they twist upon themselves like a Möbius ribbon.
Chasing timelines means running alongside shadows—seeing them stretch, shrink, flicker; knowing they lead nowhere, yet following, always following. In these reflections, not in the moments themselves, do we find our truths.
What have you lost in the labyrinth of tomorrow? A name? A face? A moment paused before a door forever ajar? Reach into the void, where reflections catch at odd angles, distorting yet revealing.