"Nibble the edges of reality, gnash your teeth upon the fabric of truth – but remember, solace is but an illusion stitched with the threads of denial."

The game lays bare the bones of consciousness where the spaces between fables and the mornings you regret illuminate every shadow.

What happens when the mirror breaks, and all the face you've worn is crumbled glass? Pick it up, and you'll see how beautifully broken you are.

Rain falls tomorrow, drenching the secrets you buried beneath your porch. Open your eyes and the past whispers sweet nothingness in vacant tones.

Echoes in the silence ripple through your mind, a symphony of what was and what never should be. Dance with their shadows, they are the ugliest truth.