In the beginning, there was the utterance of silence, where the voice of Publius first whispered the unwritten futures into the ears of oblivion. Do you feel it now?
There once existed a library of forgotten dreams, where every book was an unfinished symphony, waiting for a hand to pen the final notes. Listen, if you dare.
Time, like a river, carries away the stones of memory. Publius watches from the riverbank, his eyes pools of ink where constellations are drawn. See the stars align.